Denial
by amightypenguin
Summary: To my everlasting shame, I scared her away and made her feel like a fool. But I had to. It was for her own safety, and mine. My master was the most powerful Legilimens known. I couldn't afford to have him see something that would ruin everything.
1. September 19th, 1997

I am not a nice man. I have no redeeming qualities to speak of. Nothing that would attract members of the opposite sex. I'm cruel, outspoken in my opinions, and have been known to be a downright bastard.

I shall never apologize for these attributes. I cannot help the way I am, nor do I wish to change myself.

But never once did I believe that someone would be attracted to me. I had resigned myself from a young age that I would never have a great love.

No epic romances in the future of Severus Snape.

So you can just imagine my surprise when one night a young, beautiful woman ambushed me and kissed my vitriol-spewing lips in a gloomy kitchen in the basement of an even more depressing house. A house, I might add, that was full of people who loathed me.

Even more surprising would be the moment I realized I was in love with her. No, it was not at the moment of The Kiss. It wasn't in the months that followed, when I discouraged her (quite vociferously, I might add). No, it was the least romantic moment of anyone's life.

It was the moment that I believed she had died. Right there in front of my eyes.

* * *

September 19th, 1997

I had no idea that I was about to walk into a party, least of all Hermione Granger's eighteenth birthday party. It was hard enough walking into Grimmauld Place and surrounding myself with those people when it was just a normal day, but I had information and I had to give it immediately. True, most of them did not trust me, and they had good reason.

After all, I only killed their leader a few months previously. It had taken some quick talking and even quicker wandwork before I'd gotten them to listen to me, to believe me when I said that I had only done it because Dumbledore had told me to. It had been Lupin, of all people, who had come around first. After that it had gotten easier. Not easy, surely. But easier. At least now I could walk through Headquarters without rival wands pointed between my eyes.

Sometimes I wondered if it was worth it. Then I would go to my other headquarters, sit and listen to the Dark Lord speak, and I would know that yes, it was worth it. The world needed to be rid of him and it never would unless I continued to work both sides, continue to be a spy. One good thing about the whole situation was that now that Dumbledore was dead, at my hand, the Dark Lord trusted me above all others. He told me things I would never have dreamed to know, things that were important to the Order, and things I never wanted to hear in my life. Things that gave me nightmares. Things no human should ever have to hear.

But I listened and I acted pleased. It was necessary.

Of course it had to be on one such evening where I had to sit and listen to the Dark Lord's vile fantasies about dominion and vengeance on innocent people when I walked into Grimmauld Place. My mood, always dark, had blackened to coal. Just the sight of colorful balloons and party streamers, the sounds of laughter and fun, made me want to destroy something.

"Severus," said a soft, mellow voice. I turned and glared at Lupin as he walked forward.

"A birthday party?" I growled. "Really?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because these are dark times and we should take any pleasures, simple though they may be, where we can find them."

He was right. I didn't say so, but I knew he was. More than anything, I wanted a bright spot in my life. Something tangible to hold onto. Something to look forward to. Something besides fear and loathing of evil to fight for. I turned away from Lupin to steal another glance into the kitchen, where everyone was gathered around Granger and her birthday cake. No doubt Molly Weasley made it special just for her. I scowled as I took in the smiles, the hugs, the jokes. Ronald had his arm around Granger's shoulders and was grinning like a fool as she blew out her candles. Potter was guffawing over something. The three were no doubt a unit, clamped together even in the midst of the crowd. It had always been so. Where one was, the rest usually followed. What would it be like to need, and be needed, thus?

"Come along, Severus," Lupin said softly, cutting into my thoughts. "Let's get this over with. No doubt you have somewhere else you'd rather be."

We adjourned to the library. It did not take long. I relayed what I knew, a few people with targets on their backs who would need extra protection, a few raids that I knew were coming. Lupin took it all in without a word. When I had run out of things to relay, I simply sat in silence. I was exhausted, and angry, but I wasn't ready to leave. Lupin, though I'd deny it until my dying breath, was more intelligent than he let on.

"You look like hell, Severus," he said finally. I snorted, but said nothing. "You look as though you haven't slept in months."

"How observant you are, Lupin."

"You of all people should be able to brew a Dreamless Sleep."

Almost like a reflex I shut my eyes and turned my head away. Images that had haunted me for months, since the night Albus Dumbledore fell from the force of my curse, played behind my shut eyelids. As usual, I could only take so much before I had to open them once more just to be rid of my nightmares.

"There are some things," I said carefully, "that even magic cannot erase from the subconscious."

"I know."

Silence reigned once more. Lupin probably did understand better than most, but his horrors were of a different nature than mine. Even so, I knew that he would never repeat a word I said. He was that sort of man and for once in my life, I had a need to speak.

"I'm so tired of it all, Lupin," I said. "I've never been so ready for it to be over."

"We're all to that point, Severus," he replied. He sounded as tired as I felt. "Harry, most of all. They're up to something, I can sense it."

"They?"

"Harry, Ron, and Hermione. They lock themselves in the boy's room for hours on end. I know they couldn't go back to Hogwarts anyway, not with it being under Voldemort's thumb now, but they had already decided before the middle of summer that they weren't going back. Who does that? I can see Harry and Ron perhaps making that decision, but Hermione? And why are they secreted away all the time?"

"Lupin, they are teenagers."

"You don't think…? No. They wouldn't be doing… that."

I sighed and settled a little more comfortably in my chair. "I don't know. I don't care. As long as Potter can end this, and in a timely fashion, I will never care."

"I suppose you're right. I shouldn't care either. After all, like I said, we should take our small pleasures where we can. I've just begun to think of Harry as almost like a son and - "

"Lupin," I said warningly. "I don't want to hear about Potter. I don't want to think about Potter anymore. I'm in a bad enough mood already. What I want is a glass of brandy and book."

"You can find both here. You're welcome to stay as long as you like, of course."

"I have duties, Lupin."

"Of course, Headmaster."

I blanched. I hated being called that. I'd never felt like a headmaster. When the Dark Lord gave me the position, I'd actually considered saying no. After all, I was his favorite, was I not? Surely he could find someone else… but I couldn't do that to the students. Yet another responsibility I'd placed on my shoulders – making sure the students were well cared for.

"I'll stay for a little while," I said finally. "Away from all the frivolities, thank you very much."

"Of course," Lupin replied before taking his leave.

Looking back on it, I'm not sure how long I stayed in the library. I found the bottle of brandy and a book that was just ridiculous enough to take my mind off of reality. Summoning a glass from the kitchen, I settled in and ignored my surroundings. When I looked up at the clock, believing I'd only been there an hour, I was shocked to see that it was nearly midnight.

Putting the book aside, I got to my feet and headed for the kitchen to put away my glass. The house was silent. Everyone was in bed. The only light was from sporadically places candles that had been put much too far from each other. Shadows danced along the decaying walls. I could barely see my feet. Once in the kitchen, I didn't spare a glance for my surroundings, wanting only to get rid of the glass and get the hell out. And that was how she caught me, Severus Snape, master spy, by surprise.

"Professor?"

I nearly leapt out of my skin. Instead I whirled about and pulled out my wand. Standing a few feet from me in her nightdress was Hermione Granger, looking at me with mingled fear and relief.

"What the _hell_ are you doing in here?" I snarled. She shifted from one bare foot to the other.

"I was just… Wait. What am I doing here? I live here! What are you doing here?"

"I was just leaving," I said, setting my glass on the sink and turning toward the door.

"Wait!"

I don't know why I stopped. Madness, surely. After all the trauma I'd endured I was finally losing my once-brilliant mind. But I stopped and turned, looking back at her with one eyebrow raised.

"What is it, Granger?"

She bit her lip and looked at the floor. I cannot explain what an odd sensation it was to be speaking with her while she was dressed for bed and barefoot. Her wild hair had been managed into a braid that had settled over her shoulder. I'd only ever seen her in her uniform. It was strange because she didn't look at all like a student. Now she just looked like a human. My students never looked like humans to me. They were simply… children. Students. People, surely, but not human beings. They all dressed alike and did all the same work (to varying degrees).

But there stood Granger, the most student-like student of them all, looking human. It was unnerving.

"I just wanted to say… sir… that I… I respect you. A great deal."

My eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What is this about, Granger?"

She looked slightly panicked but held her ground. "I just wanted to tell you because I don't think anyone else does. What you're doing is very… brave and I – we – appreciate it."

My eyes narrowed further. Something was afoot. Some sort of prank, or joke. I looked around quickly, trying to see if someone was hidden, or if there was a booby trap, or some other imbecilic _something_ waiting for me. But I saw nothing. Just Granger.

"Also," she said, her voice higher than usual. "I wanted to tell you that I admire you. You're very smart, brilliant really. I just thought I'd tell you that too."

Now I _knew_ something strange was occurring. No one ever said such things to me. No one ever took the time to tell me that they admired me. What was she doing?

At the moment, she was stepping closer. Because I was going mad, or simply because no one ever approached me, I didn't move. And before I knew what was happening, it was too late.

She wasn't pranking me. She wasn't trying to trick me. She was kissing me.

My mind went blank with shock. Even through my closed lips I could taste how sweet she was. She was so small that she had raise herself as high as the tips of her toes to even reach my face and she held onto my rigid arms for balance. I noticed all these things because the shock didn't last long. No, I was no longer stunned. So why had I not stepped back? Why had I not shoved her aside?

Because I was going mad.

For one moment I allowed her to kiss me. I allowed myself to be kissed. To have one bright spot of something other than war and fear. She was so sweet, so innocent, in her giving and I took it. I did not reciprocate, I did not kiss her back, but I memorized every millisecond. I hoarded the feel of her soft lips, of the gentle exhalations from her nose on my cheek, her small hands clutching the sleeves of my robes. I saved it in the corner of my mind that I kept hidden from everyone, even usually myself. I took it all in, as much as I could and not loathe myself, before I brutally shoved her back.

"Will you _desist_?" I snapped. She looked as if I'd slapped her. Perhaps, in a way, I had. Her brown eyes were huge in her pale face and for once in my life I felt like a total bastard. But I did not show it. No indeed. "Are you quite finished humiliating yourself?"

She swallowed and the squelching sound echoed in the dark, dank kitchen. And then, before I could say any number of the vile things in my mind to get to go away and never think of me again, she darted through the door and was gone.

To my everlasting shame, I scared her away and made her feel like a fool. But I had to. It was for her own safety, and mine. My master was the most powerful Legilimens known. I couldn't afford to have him see something that would ruin everything. So I humiliated her for her own safety. Better that she hate me and avoid me than have any sort of hope.

It didn't matter that suddenly I was seeing Granger-the-Student as Hermione Granger, powerful witch and legal adult who had the sweetest lips I'd ever encountered. I put it aside, locked it in my mind, and refused to think about it as I left Headquarters.


	2. December 19th, 1997

I had stayed away for two months. It had been easy, really. There was nothing to report. The reprieve from the hostility in Headquarters had been quite nice. In the Dark Lord's presence I was admired and feared. At Grimmault Place, I was loathed.

There was also that little thing I refused to think about involving a certain curly-haired know-it-all. I had been doing well in ignoring it of late but knowing that I had to go inside that house, knowing I would have to see her, brought up memories that I knew I had to forget. It was my own selfishness, however, that dragged it all back. I couldn't forget. I would spend hours at night thinking about her soft, smooth lips. Her innocent fingers digging into the fabric on my arms.

No. I had to keep my head. Shoving it all aside, again, I marched up the front steps and let myself in. I had not anticipated what I would walk into.

It was panic.

People were shouting at each other, running up and down stairs. The portrait of Mrs. Black was wailing but ignored. I stood in place for several heartbeats, watching in bemusement, until Lupin saw me.

"Severus," he said mildly, walking to my side. He was obviously distracted.

"What the hell is going on?" I demanded.

"Harry, Ron, and Hermione are missing," he replied in a strained voice.

"Missing?" I repeated.

"Yes."

"How could they be missing?"

"We don't know. Last night they were here, perfectly fine, and this morning they were gone."

"Don't you have wards set up to _avoid_ this sort of thing?" I asked harshly.

"Yes, but they had been dismantled. I'm sure it was Hermione."

Of course, I thought mildly. The brightest witch of her age. But _what the hell had she been thinking?_ What were they doing? Where were they? Why would they leave without a word to anyone? Obviously because they knew no one would let them leave. What the hell was so important that they would leave without saying anything?

"I'm sure we'll find them," Lupin said.

"You'd bloody well better," I snapped. "Needless to say, this cannot end without Potter."

"I _know_, Severus," Lupin replied tiredly. "But they're smart. They'll come back."

It was hard for me to share his faith. I knew what was out there. I knew what was looking for Potter and his friends. I knew what the Dark Lord had planned for him. The Snatchers were the least of his worries. If Potter was caught, all would be for nothing. Looking around at the mad pandemonium, I suddenly wanted to scream a little myself.

How could they have been so stupid? What could have possessed them to leave the safety of the Headquarters without a proper guard? They'd better have a damn good reason.

I knew it was not my problem. I had things of my own to deal with, but I couldn't help but worry. And there was a part of me, the part I refused to look at, that wasn't just worried about Potter and the fate of the world. I was worried about Granger.

It was remarkably stupid that one innocent kiss could change a man. And here I'd always thought that I was stronger than the average man when it came to emotion, that I would never fall victim to it. That is rather laughable now. One kiss, and suddenly I was worried for her. Had she never kissed me I would have been safely livid, promising all kinds of retribution when the three returned. She never would have had more attention in my mind than Potter, who was the _Savior_, for Merlin's sake. You'd think he'd be the forefront problem in my mind.

All chaos halted, however, when a snowy owl sailed in through a window. Scared faces turned upward to stare, people halted mid-step. Even Mrs. Black went quiet. The owl circled the entrance hall twice, as though to make sure that all attention was focused on her, before drifting down to Lupin. She settled on his shoulder and dropped a note into his waiting palm. He tore it open, read the missive, and promptly did something I'd never seen Lupin do: he swore. Vehemently. He shrugged the owl off his shoulder, shoved the note into my hand, and stalked off to the kitchen. All those eyes of the Order then shifted to me.

Frowning, I looked down and saw Potter's jumbled scrawl:

_We're fine. We're safe. We're doing something extremely important. We can't win otherwise. We will be back soon. Don't worry._

_Harry, Ron, Hermione_

Growling in suffused anger, I tossed the note to Molly Weasley, who looked on the verge of a heart attack, and stomped off after Lupin. I did, after all, go to Headquarters to give him news in the first place.

_Don't worry?_ Don't worry. Were they serious? Don't worry when the bloody Savior of the Wizarding World vanishes off to Merlin knew where with only two other teenagers to help.

Not bloody likely.

I found Lupin pouring what appeared to be firewhiskey down his throat. I had the mad urge to join him and drown my panic with alcohol, but that wouldn't be wise. Rage had turned my vision red and I wasn't the happiest drunk in the first place.

"Tell Shacklebolt he's their next target," I said through clenched teeth. "They believe him to be the Order's new leader and they want it headless, as it were."

"I'll inform him and we'll double our security efforts," Lupin replied, filling his glass again. "If – no, _when_ Harry, Ron, and Hermione return, we'll reinforce the security here as well. No point now, because they still need to get back in."

"Whatever. I'm leaving. Good luck with those twats."

Lupin snorted and gulped down more whiskey. Turning on my heel, I marched back through the entrance hall and out the front door without a word to anyone else and once I was past the security wards, I Apparated back to the gates of Hogwarts.

_Don't worry._

Those two words kept dancing around in my head as I stalked up the drive to the school. How could they possibly think that the Order wouldn't worry? They'd spent years keeping that stupid brat Potter safe, long before he even knew wizards existed. Years of patrols, secrets, hiding. Years of security wards and passwords. And he threw it all in their faces. And he dragged Granger and Weasley along with him.

Entering the castle, I passed Ginevra Weasley. She'd been a right pain in my arse since the beginning of term. It was as though she wanted to be punished with all the things she and her friends had gotten up to. I still couldn't believe that she had set off fireworks in the Carrow's Defense class. If it hadn't been so stupid, I might have been amused. She gave me a look of pure detestation, one I returned before making my way to my office.

But she was the least of my problems.

Right as I walked through the door I was met with my second master's voice, still a commanding presence even though he was only a portrait.

"Is all well?" Albus Dumbledore asked.

"No," I replied tartly. "Your dear Chosen One has vanished."

"Vanished?"

"Yes. He left Headquarters, taking Granger and Weasley with him, without a word. A short time ago he sent a _note_," I let my face grimace and my voice growl for proper emphasis, "that told the Order that what they had done was _important_, and _not to worry_."

I expected more than thoughtful silence from Dumbledore. Some profanities and angry gestures would have been appropriate. But he was oddly still. He stared at a spot above my head for many long moments while I stood there, unsure just what to do next. When he spoke it was sudden and sharp.

"Severus," he said. I raised an eyebrow in reply. Those blue eyes, so bright in life where no less piercing now on canvas, held me in place. "You must get the sword to him immediately."

"Of Gryffindor?" I said. Stupidly, I admit.

"Yes, and remember it can only be acquired through need or valor."

"I remember that but there is just one problem," I said silkily, before my voice exploded. "_Where the hell is Potter?_"

"At the Ministry," said a calm voice.

I whirled and glared at the portrait of Everard, a sallow-faced man with short black bangs. He appeared quite composed, blast him.

"Excuse me?" I said, clenching my fists.

"He ran by not too long ago with his two friends. He was holding a big locket. They looked rather panicked."

"Why didn't you say something?"

"You didn't ask."

I growled slightly before turning back to Dumbledore. "You mean to tell me that he left Headquarters with absolutely no warning, not a word, _to get a piece of jewelry_?"

"Severus," Dumbledore interrupted. I glared at him. "This is very important, he needs the sword. You must get it to him, without him realizing you helped. If Voldemort should see such a thing though his link with Harry, you could be compromised."

"I'm compromised every time that little bastard sees me at Headquarters, Headmaster."

"True, but this is worse," Dumbledore said. "Take the sword, find him, and think of a way to get it to him. No doubt he needs it just now."

"Yes, sir."

I walked over to his portrait and swung it forward. Nestled in a space created just for it, was the glorious sword of Gryffindor. As I pull it out into the light of the office, its rubies glowed brightly.

"Hurry, Severus!"

"I don't suppose you'd care to explain any of this to me?"

"No. Now go."

I bit back my snarl as I left the office, off to save Potter's behind once again.


	3. December 20th, 1997

December 20th, 1997

It was after midnight by the time I got to the Ministry. Concealed by a Disillusionment Charm, the sword sheathed under my outer robes at my side, I was silent as I hurried through the halls. Everything was dark. The only people left in the building were the night crew, there to clean the messes left by everyone during the day. It had been years since I'd had reason to step foot in the Ministry. It had not changed that much, though everything appeared larger because it was empty.

As quietly as I could manage, I made my way through all the accessible points on each floor. If _I_ couldn't manage to get into a locked room, then there was no way Potter or his sidekicks could have either. As I searched, I kept wondering to myself if Potter was even still there and if not, how the hell would I manage to get the sword to him?

I was on the lift, pondering my options, when it stopped at level four, the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. I was raising my hand to press the button for level five, thinking that there would be no reason for Potter to come to this level, when I heard it – a huge crash. I closed my eyes with a resigned sigh. I had forgotten for a moment that it was _Potter_ I was chasing and that he had no reason for anything he did, which is why he was damn hard to understand, or attempt to help.

When another crash resounded through the department, I cursed and left the lift. Why the _hell_ was he in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures? And what had he gotten himself mixed up with this time? I followed the sounds of chaos, coming more and more frequently which just added to my ire (could the boy not _run away_?).

My irritation vanished the moment I came across them and took in the situation. Of all the beasts locked away in the department for safekeeping, of _course_ Potter had to find and release a Minotaur. Not even bothering to try and understand how this came to pass, checked my appearance (still Disillusioned), took the sword out of its sheath at my hip, and entered the room.

No wonder they hadn't run. The damn thing, all twelve feet of half-man, half-bull, was standing in the way. It was obviously angry, if its roars and snarls were anything to go by. The three teenagers were backed up against the far wall and each looked equally terrified. The Minotaur raked one hoof over the floor over and over again. I knew what that meant – it was about to charge.

Before I could even attempt to think of how to stop it, Granger appeared to come to her senses. She stood up straight, all five feet of her, and raised her wand at the enraged beast. I'm not sure exactly what it was I felt in that moment. Shock, yes. Exasperation? Absolutely. But more than anything else I felt fear. In a flash I saw the outcome of her stupidity in my mind – the spell she used bouncing off her target and then the Minotaur charging her down, trampling her beneath his feet. What was she thinking? She couldn't take down a Minotaur. But she, apparently, thought different.

"_Sectumsempra_!" she cried. Blood spurted out in all directions from the Minotaur's thick hide. I allowed myself a moment of admiration. Normal defensive spells had no effect on such a creature but really dark magic? I had not thought she'd have in it her to use such a thing. And she'd used a spell that I had created. I should have been appalled, but I was not. I was… flattered.

The Minotaur, however, was not very happy. He screamed even louder and thrashed his head and arms about in pain. He lurched about, bringing himself closer and closer to the trio.

"Help me!" Granger snapped at the two boys. Potter jumped in, no doubt in his mind to the rescue, and took aim.

"_Relashio_!" he yelled. The fiery sparks rebounded away ineffectually from the Minotaur.

"That won't work on his skin, Harry!" Granger said.

"Well then what will?" Potter barked.

"Dark magic!"

The Minotaur lurched closer, his blood spilling out onto the floor. Some hit Granger and Potter.

"I don't know any dark magic, Hermione!" Potter shouted over the Minotaur's tortured shrieks.

"I've already done what I know!" Granger said in despair. "I don't know what else to do!"

With a flash of inspiration I remembered the sword. The path to the other side of the room was clear for me because the Minotaur would not be able to see me. Darting around the still-bleeding and screaming beast, I made it to the other side. Potter, Weasley, and Granger were dancing around, trying not to get hit by the horns or huge hands of the Minotaur. Gripping the sword tightly in my hands, I drove it into the wall. It slid easily, as if it knew my intent.

I backed away and focused on Potter. It was pathetic how easy it was to get into his mind. Obviously the Chosen One had not exercised his Occlumancy at all. But I was not an enemy, using his thoughts against him. Instead I latched onto his current stream of thought ("_Oh God please, please I don't want us to die, we can't die now, there's still so much to do, help, please help us_"). At least he understood that he had a long way to go yet.

"_Look at the wall!_" I bellowed into his mind.

As though someone had grabbed his chin and jerked it around, Potter snapped his head around and saw the sword. His eyes got very large and he was still for a moment, long enough for me to consider hurling a Stinging Hex at him, before he lunged at it. Bracing one foot against the wall, Potter heaved on the sword.

"Hermione, Ron, get back!" he yelled as the sword came free. The two pressed themselves against the wall and Potter charged forward to the Minotaur. I held my breath – It all came to this moment. He had to kill it and fast, before it killed them all. Potter thrust the sword into the Minotaur's chest, right where its heart would be. The Minotaur bellowed, though it had an odd gurgling sound to it. I thought Potter would have the good sense to back off but before he could the Minotaur got one last attack in. He threw his fist forward and Granger screamed when it connected with the side of Potter's face with enough force to throw him back into the wall.

I checked my sudden impulse to go to him, to help him. I couldn't do as I wanted, however. I had to remain invisible. The Minotaur died a few moments later, falling to the floor with an earth-shaking rumble. But Granger and Weasley had all their attention on Potter, who was unconscious.

"What the bloody hell was he thinking?" Weasley muttered.

Granger ignored the question and leaned over Potter with her wand pointed at his face. "_Ennervate_."

Potter blinked his eyes open dazedly and I breathed a sigh of relief. Granger sat back rubbed her hands over her face.

"Are you alright, Harry?" she asked, her voice muffled by her hands.

"I… think so," he replied. "Head hurts."

"You don't say?" Weasley said sarcastically. "I don't suppose it could be because _a giant man-bull punched you in the face?_"

Potter stared at him for a moment before his face broke into a grin. "That could be it."

"I'll give you a healing potion when we get back," Granger said. "_If_ we get back."

"Come on, Hermione," Potter replied. "We just killed a Minotaur. I think we'll make out safely."

"Yes, as long as you don't decide to release any other mythical beasts."

"I didn't release it!"

"Oh please."

"It was an accident!"

"Whatever, mate," Weasley interrupted. "We need to get out of here. Where are we?"

"I dunno, I just wanted to get away from Umbridge's office before the guards saw us."

"Oh for the love of Merlin!" Granger snapped. "A Minotaur! Obviously we're in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures! Now let's find the lift, get to the Atrium, and go to the Apparition point."

Potter rubbed his head. "Do you think we could use the floo? I think Apparition would make me puke right now."

"No, we can't, Harry," Hermione said with the air of someone explaining why the sky was blue to a toddler. "You see, when someone uses a floo network, their departure can be followed if someone were to look. And I think, now that there's a dead Minotaur in the middle of a Ministry department, someone might want to know what happened and try to find out who managed to kill a level five dangerous creature. And we can't really afford that right now."

I was impressed with her level of snark. I didn't think little Miss Goody Two Shoes Know-it-All had it in her. She'd managed to pleasantly surprise me twice in the span of ten minutes.

"Alright, alright," Potter grumbled. "But if I get sick on you, it's not my fault."

"I'll just let Ron support you for right now."

"Hey!" said Weasley.

"Do you still have the locket?"

Potter raised up a huge necklace. I couldn't see the detail from my vantage point. I watched and listened to their bickering as Potter pulled the sword from the Minotaur's chest. They left the room, their voices echoing in the deserted hallways.

I had done my duty. Potter was alive and had the sword. But it wasn't him in my thoughts. Instead my mind was occupied with how magnificent Granger had looked while staring down a Minotaur.


	4. December 24th, 1997

December 24th, 1997

I should have known that the Order meeting called on Christmas Eve would be a total waste of my time. They were never going to talk about Order business, they were going to try and celebrate the holiday together. Have some cheer. Show group support.

What rubbish.

The celebrations were rather forced. I stayed in my corner of the kitchen where no one would bother me and simply watched. I knew they were never going to get down to business, but I wasn't ready to leave. The Dark Lord was expecting all of his supporters later in the evening and if I left Headquarters, that meant I would have to go to him. I could be as late as I wanted, being his favorite, but I could not simply not show up. So I kept pushing my departure further and further back. I wasn't having fun with the Order, but I wasn't being mentally scarred either.

So I held a glass of brandy, kept to myself, and simply watched the festivities. Molly Weasley had lost too much weight. Her skin was slightly grey with fatigue and her eyes looked a bit frantic. Some people did not handle wartime well at all. Arthur Weasley had nodded off in his chair. The Hellion Twins, dressed to the utmost frippery in matching purple suits, seemed to be trying to single-handedly keep everyone's spirits up. They were only marginally successful. Lupin was trying to be discreet about holding Nymphadora Tonks's hand, but she didn't appear to want to keep it hidden. Ginevra Weasley was sitting at Potter's feet. Ronald Weasley had one arm about Granger's shoulders. I couldn't tell what she thought of that because her expression was completely blank.

As a matter of fact, the Golden Trio looked a little worse for wear. All three looked tired and detached from their surroundings. Ginevra kept trying to get Potter's attention but either he was ignoring her, or was oblivious. I preferred to think the latter. Potter was usually oblivious.

But my eyes, against my will, kept straying to Granger and that obscenely freckled arm wrapped around her narrow shoulders. Ridiculously, I wanted to march over and twist that arm back around Weasley's head. But I had no reason to. Also, I didn't want to attract attention to myself. And I didn't want to give Granger any ideas that I was even remotely interested in her welfare. Because I wasn't. Not beyond making sure she wasn't ripped to shreds by a giant Minotaur. For anyone to think otherwise was ludicrous.

But I kept glancing at that arm willing it to move, to vanish. To decay slowly and painfully all the way up to Weasley's boney shoulder.

Ginevra finally gave up on communicating verbally and instead got to her feet, grabbed Potter's hand, and hauled him up out of his seat. Potter looked a little dazed. Over the din that was currently being created by the twins singing (at least, I think they were singing; they could have been shrieking in pain for all it sounded like), I could hear her say, "Come on, let's go talk." Potter nodded slightly and moved to follow but then stopped. His eyes, suddenly coming into focus, swept the room as though making sure no one was looking at him. The fool, no doubt forgetting there was someone in my corner, didn't even look at me. Twit. So I witnessed him reach under the neck of his shirt and remove something – the locket from the Ministry. He reached over and dropped it in Granger's lap and then left the kitchen while holding Ginevra's hand.

Granger seemed to wilt a little as she looked down at the necklace. Weasley leaned even closer, much closer than should have been necessary, and whispered something into her ear. She nodded morosely and slipped the locket over her head and under her shirt. Then the two of them stood and left the room as well.

I kept my seat but the room had lost my interest. I hadn't realized just how much I'd been focusing on Granger. Without her there any longer, there was nothing else I wanted to observe. The situation was becoming dangerous. I couldn't focus on her so much. The more I thought about her, the more easily accessible she'd be in my mind for those who cared to look. But… I couldn't _not_ think of her.

Her bare toes the night that she'd kissed me. Surely they'd been freezing?

How her wand had been perfectly steady as she'd faced the Minotaur.

And how defeated she'd looked just moments before.

All these things swirled in and out of focus in my head. The more I thought about her, the more I realized I couldn't stay at Headquarters. If I stayed, it would be that much harder to Occlude myself later. I had to leave, to gain my mental balance once more. With that thought, I put my glass aside and left the kitchen. No one noticed.

Stupid chit. It was all her fault. If she'd simply kept her hands (and lips) to herself, I wouldn't be in this predicament. I had no romantic feelings for her. There simply wasn't the time. It would have been suicide. But why had she kissed me? What could possibly have entered her mind to make her think it was a good idea? And why did the whole thing bother me so much? Because she was so young? Probably. Because I had to be in her presence when I should be focused on the task at hand (like the war)? Definitely. Because perhaps, somewhere inside, I wanted her to do it again?

Before I could think about that much more I heard voices from the sitting room on the way to the front door. Had it been anyone other than Granger, I would have kept going. But…I was too curious about her. I _knew_ I should have just kept walking. I should just have ignored her. But I didn't.

It didn't take much stealth not to be seen by the two inside the sitting room. Granger and Weasley were seated on a sofa in front of the fire with little space between them. From my vantage point I could see their profiles as they looked at one another.

"Just a few more hours," Weasley said. "Then it'll be my turn."

"I just wish…that it wasn't so…" Granger's voice trailed off.

"We'll figure it out soon," he said, his voice full of false confidence.

"It's so heavy," she whispered. Her voice was full of what sounded to be pain. I frowned. "It's heavy and vile and I don't know how much longer I can stand it."

Weasley's hand appeared at Granger's brow. "I know, Hermione. I hate it too. I'm sure it'll be over soon."

She lowered her head and looked down at her lap. "I just don't want to think about it anymore. Can't we talk about something else? Something… cheerful."

Weasley's hand stopped caressing the side of her head and went still. His eyes glinted in the firelight and I could almost see the wheels turning in his skull. I knew what he was going to do before he did it. Knowing it didn't make it any less nauseating. I should have looked away as he leaned forward but I was glued to my spot, my eyes stuck.

Weasley lifted Granger's chin and pressed his mouth to hers. I watched for a few more moments, observing their innocence. It wasn't much more than their lips meeting. But it was still a kiss and she did not push him away.

But I couldn't take much more than that. Some indescribable feeling had taken over my chest, making it hot and cold at the same time. I left silently. Outside the front door, I Apparated to the gate outside Malfoy Manor.

I paced just outside the gate and tried to calm my emotions, though I couldn't quite name which ones they were. I was full of questions and a quiet fury that made absolutely no sense. I had no claim on Granger. I _wanted_ no claim on Granger.

Had they kissed before? Or had I witnessed the first one? But what if they had. Why would she have kissed me? Unless any kissing with Weasley occurred after her disastrous encounter with me. And it had to be considered disastrous, at least to her. To me… it was no disaster. It was no mistake. The only mistake on my part was letting it go on as long as it did.

I stopped in my tracks and blew out a big breath. It was no use thinking about it. I was about to go before the Dark Lord and I couldn't afford to be thinking about some teenage girl and her… exploits. There was absolutely no point.

I made another mistake that night – thinking I was the master of my own emotions in that moment. I went in too soon. Yes, at the time I was still ignoring my own feelings. But that's no excuse for what happened next.

After the family-like setting of the Order Headquarters, Malfoy Manor felt colder than ever. Icy Christmas decorations filled the halls and rooms. All the guests spoke in quiet murmurs and had mellow expressions. I passed them all, ignoring their nods and greetings. I wanted to get in, get it over with, and leave.

I found the Dark Lord in the drawing room. The Malfoys were seated together in a corner, trying to be inconspicuous. When the Dark Lord saw me, his red eyes glinted in pleasure. Pushing my horror back with all the other emotions I didn't want him to see, I hid them in that special spot of my mind and closed the door. At least, I thought I did.

I approached the Dark Lord and knelt, waiting for him to invite me up again. I found the whole process tedious (and my knees objected outright), but the Dark Lord was one for ceremony. After merely a second, his voice rang throughout the whole room.

"Rise, Severus. You need not bow so low with me, my friend."

_Right. If I didn't, you'd throw a fit._

"My lord," I said instead. It was habit for me to try to avoid eye contact. Instead of looking at him, I looked around the room. Bellatrix was near, as ever, and throwing fawning glances at the Dark Lord. I always found that to be beyond disturbing.

"How are things in Hogwarts?" The Dark Lord asked.

"As ever, my lord," I replied.

"Come now, I hear that there are some students who are… shall we say, having some problems?"

Damn. Bloody Carrows and their gossiping mouths. I had wanted to keep the retaliating exploits of Longbottom and Ginevra Weasley as quiet as possible.

"It's nothing to worry about, my lord," I replied easily. "I'm handling it."

"Well, I prefer you to handle it a bit harsher," the Dark Lord said softly. "Detentions with that half-blood giant won't teach them anything."

"Of course, my lord," I said. "Whatever you wish."

He smiled, like some reptilian cat who'd found a saucer of cream. "I knew you'd see it my way."

I made my lips tilt into something like a smile and looked into his eyes. I'm not sure what he caught in my gaze. But before I knew what was happening, I felt him in my mind – the secret room that he was not supposed to see. I hid my panic and tried to be discreet about pushing him away, but I was not fast enough.

"What's this, Severus?" he hissed.

I wasn't sure what he had seen. He'd been too quick. Had he seen me with the Order? Had he seen my helping Potter? My heart turned cold. Had he seen Granger's kiss? Would he target her? No doubt he would kill me for my betrayal. I could handle that but if he went for Granger simply because she'd been stupid enough to kiss me…

"My lord?" I said, trying to calm my thoughts and heart.

"I sense… jealousy," he said, tilting his head with his eyes burrowing into mine. "Over a female."

I clenched my teeth and looked away. His soft laughter scraped over my nerves.

"It is nothing, my lord."

"It is not nothing, Severus. I do so hate to see you unhappy. If some woman is ridiculous enough to kiss someone else, then she is not worthy of you."

My relief was explosive. He'd see Granger's kiss with Weasley and my reaction (jealousy?) but had not realized whom he'd seen. Perhaps Granger and Weasley were below his radar because of his obsession with Potter. That was fine with me.

"I agree, my lord."

"There are plenty of other women, better women, who deserve you."

I nodded and kept silent. Luckily Bellatrix decided to slither over at that moment and take the Dark Lord's attention. No doubt her jealousy that he'd spoken to me for longer than five seconds had spurned her into action. The woman was demented.

I stayed for as short of a time as I could get away with and finally left. No one noticed. Far from being bothered that no one cared about my absence, I found relief. After Apparating to the gates of Hogwarts, I thought on my situation all the way up to the castle and my office.

I had to get Granger out of my mind. She was not my concern and it was a danger to my safety, not to mention her own. I'd been behaving like a school boy with a crush and the mere thought aggravated me enough into action. I was an adult man and I was the master of my own emotions. I did not care about Hermione Granger. I did not care whom she kissed, just as I did not care what she did with her life.

So I put aside all thoughts of her huge eyes and soft lips. I ignored the desire to relive her kiss that night before I went to sleep, as I had every night before then. From that moment on, I would not think of her at all.


	5. January 9th, 1998

January 9th, 1998

As far as I knew, the Order meeting was still planned on the night of my birthday. I had not heard word from anyone specifying otherwise, so I went to Grimmauld Place and arrived exactly at eight-thirty in the evening. Just long enough for the general chattering to have ceased and the actual meeting to have started. Some thought I liked to be fashionably late. In actuality, I just wanted to skip as much socialization as possible. I could only take Molly Weasley asking about her daughter so many times.

I knew that something was wrong the moment I walked into the house. It was deserted and perfectly silent. There was no movement from anywhere. The eerie stillness had me immediately on my guard. Wand in hand, I crept to the door of the kitchen.

No one was there.

I made my way through the decrepit house, checking everything. There were no signs of a struggle. There were no signs of anything. No people, no owls. No signs of life.

My mind whirled with the back-up precautions the Order had – who to contact, where they were located, emergency locations for the wounded since St. Mungo's wouldn't accept anyone without Ministry approval any more. I had just turned to go back down the stairs and out the front door when I heard it.

The soft, husky laughter made me stop in my tracks. I didn't recognize it, but it sent every hair on the nape of my neck erect. There was something… wrong with that voice. Something evil. When it started speaking, every cell in my body wanted to run but even as I acknowledged that fear, I also knew that someone, an ally, was here and in need of help. That awful voice wouldn't be speaking to itself like that.

It was too low to make out words, but it was indeed talking to someone. Silently I made my way down the hall to where one of the doors was ajar. An empty bedroom, or so I had thought. It was kept available for Order member who decided to stay the night. Who had stayed in this empty house? Who was being tormented by that voice?

Just outside the door I stopped, calmed my rapid heartbeat, and nudged the door a little to get a better look. I'm not sure precisely what I was expecting, but it did not come near what was the actuality.

Potter and Granger were leaning against the far wall, staring into one of the corners. They were shaking. As I took a step to barge in and demand what the bloody hell was going on, the voice spoke again.

"_Silly, worthless, pathetic boy_," the voice said.

That was… Granger's voice. Dumbstruck, my eyes travelled further and found Weasley kneeling in the middle of the floor with the sword of Gryffindor at his side and gazing at two willowy, transparent figures. One was Potter, though the look of greedy malice had never crossed the real Potter's face. He was too noble for that. Twined around the ghost-like Potter was a figure of Granger. She looked down at Weasley with taunting, seductive eyes as she ran her hands over Potter's chest.

"_I never even looked in your direction,"_ the apparition of Granger hissed. "_How could I? How could I even see you beyond the Boy Who Lived?"_

"Please, Ron," the real Hermione groaned. "Just kill it!"

"I… can't…" Weasley whispered as the ghosts of Potter and Granger slowly leaned in and pressed their smoky lips together.

"Ron!" Potter yelled, shoving himself from the wall, conviction in his eyes. "If you won't, I will! Do it!"

Weasley moved his head slowly back and forth, never taking his eyes from the embracing apparitions. Potter lurched forward, grabbed the sword, and raised it with both hands above his head. Just as he began to swing it down, the apparitions shifted and morphed into two new people. I was as shocked, as horrified, as… filled with longing as Potter as my eyes took in the form of Lily Evans. I didn't spare a glance for James Potter.

"_Sweet boy_," Lily crooned. I was immediately slapped back from whatever spell the vision had on me. Lily had never spoken like that. Her voice was always filled with warmth, even when she was ready to hex someone to pieces. It was part of who she was. This… thing had her voice wrong. Full of menace, though still soft. It disgusted me that whatever this thing was would defile her memory in such a way.

"Mum?" Potter whispered. "Dad?"

"Harry!" Granger yelled. "Harry, stab it! It's a lie!"

"_Don't listen to them_," Lily murmured. "_Don't trust them, dear boy. They only want to be near you for your fame. They don't even like you. They don't know you as we do."_

"Don't listen to her Harry!" Granger called. She was sweating, her face pale. "She's a lie! They're not your parents!"

"_Of course we are, son,"_ the ghost-like James Potter said, his voice soft. Menacing. "_We're your mum and dad, and we love you. Would you really want to make us leave you? Don't listen to that lying girl, Harry."_

"_Don't you love us?" _Lily asked with a sweet, beguiling smile.

I couldn't stand it anymore. It was too sad, and much too wrong to see such weaknesses used against the people in front of me, even if I did despise them.

I shoved the door open and stepped inside. Potter didn't even spare me a glance, but Granger did. Weasley did. Both gazes held a mixture of relief and fear.

"Potter, don't listen to their lies!" I said. Potter finally tore his eyes away from the figures of his parents and looked at me.

So did Lily and James. And then there was only Lily.

"_Severus_," she sang. She suddenly looked like she did from school, all vibrancy and smiles._ "Severus, there you are_!"

I could hear other voices, but I paid them no mind. There was Lily, and she was smiling at me. Did she forgive me?

"_Severus_," she said with a shake of her head and a pout of her lips. "_You killed me_."

"No," I whispered, my heart aching. She must forgive me…

"_Take me away and I'll forgive you_," she said. "_Take the locket, and it'll be like it never happened. I'll always be with you this way_."

Where her feet should have been was an open locket. Without thinking, I stepped forward. But something held me back. Looking down absently, I saw that someone held the front of my robes and was trying to shake me. Granger. Granger was saying something, I couldn't hear… Then she looked up at me, her brown eyes enormous and I remembered. I remembered the kitchen, her bare feet, her lips. Her nervousness, her hope. And then that hope distinguished as I humiliated her.

My ears felt as though I were at a high altitude, with too much pressure on my brain. But as I stared at her, it slowly receded. Her mouth was moving and as I stared at it words came through.

"Not… stop… real…"

And with that I snapped out of whatever spell had been cast on me. Behind Granger, Weasley had the sword once more. But he hesitated. His pale, sweaty face was full of fear as he stared at the figure of Lily Evans, of Harry's mother.

"Weasley," snarled. He looked at me in bewilderment. "Do it!"

"Please Ron," Hermione moaned. "Make it stop!"

He looked at her for a moment and then squared his shoulders. He marched to the apparition just as it began to change once more. He raised the sword while the swirling, smoky mass started to form into a familiar shape. He stabbed it down as cold, black eyes over a hawk-like nose stared at Granger.

There was a high squeal and a flash of white light. The noise and light exploded through my head for a few moments, throwing me backwards into the doorframe. And then it was quiet. Granger had been shoved against my chest but before I could move her aside, she lurched backwards, throwing herself away from me and falling over, landing on the floor beside Potter and Weasley with a loud THUMP. All four of us were panting.

I stared at them as they stared at where the apparitions had been. I noticed things now that I hadn't paid attention to in the minutes before. They all looked as though they hadn't slept in days. Their clothes were hanging from their bodies as though they'd lost weight.

"What," I said, my voice cutting through the silence like a knife, "the hell has been going on?"

All three turned their heads and looked at me, their eyes almost completely vacant. I pushed myself away from the wall and loomed over them. I had a satisfying moment as they each cringed a bit.

"Well?" I demanded.

"We…" Potter stopped.

"Do tell."

He sat up a bit and ran a hand through his disastrous hair. "We can't tell you."

I clenched my jaw and made my irritation plain. "I beg your pardon?"

"We can't tell anyone," he continued. He sounded completely defeated. "It's something we have to do. It's why we left, and why we're going to have to leave again. It has to be done. I wish I could tell you more, but I can't. It's bad enough that you know this much."

"Know what?" I spat. "That I know what, exactly? That you just killed some ghosts?"

"Yes," Potter replied, looking up at me with hard eyes. "It's bad that you know exactly that. And speaking of which, why would my mother be on speaking terms with you?"

Oh God. He wasn't the only one hiding something. Luckily, as a spy, I could think fast.

"That," I said, pointing to the smoking, ruined locket, "was not your mother. I have no idea what that was." Potter looked on the verge of speaking again, those defiant eyes narrowed to slits, when I continued. "Where is the rest of the Order? Why are you on your own here?"

Granger answered before Potter could speak, as though she could sense a confrontation in the making. "The meeting was cancelled. There was some sort of political uproar at the Ministry today and Tonks and Shacklebolt couldn't make it. It's going to be rescheduled. You're not the only one who didn't know, but everyone else had left already."

"Fine."

I turned on my heel and left the room. Behind me, I could hear Potter.

"Wait, he didn't explain why-"

"Harry," Granger said tiredly. I slowed my steps. "Just drop it. Do you really think he'd explain anything to us?"

"But-"

"She's right, mate. Just let it go for now."

For now. Somehow that sounded ominous in my mind. I picked up my pace again and left before any of them decided to interrogate me after all. But I had questions of my own. If that locket, that… thing, took the form of our deepest desires and spoke our deepest fears, then why had it started to take the shape of me before being destroyed? Did Granger still… have misplaced emotions regarding me? Most likely. She was a teenager, after all.

I mostly dismissed all thoughts regarding the incident from my mind but one thought kept returning. What, exactly, would my apparition have said to her had it had time to speak?


	6. February 3rd, 1998

February 3rd, 1998

"And then Dolohov caught 'im with a good _Sectumsempra_!"

_Blood replenishing potion, essence of Dittany…_

"I knew that spell would prove itself to be amusing." The Dark Lord's voice, though hushed, rang throughout the room of Death Eaters. I smiled mechanically, one side of my brain on the conversation, the other on a list of potions I'd need to collect once I'd left. If the skirmish was as involved as Pettigrew proclaimed, there were a few Weasleys and a metamorphmagus who would be in need of assistance.

"Too bad it was only six," someone muttered. "I'd heard that old bint's house was Headquarters now."

_Essence of murtlap, mind agility potion to counteract _Confundus_…_

"Muriel fought like a damn tigress," Travers grumbled, still holding his arm where a curse had burned him.

_Skele-grow…_

"I don't know how I feel about one of my devoted being injured by an old woman," the Dark Lord said with a malicious smirk. Travers' face fell.

"Well she's dead now, so it doesn't matter much," Bellatrix said with a flick of her hand. "She may have fought like a tiger, but she died as easily as a child."

My face never once betrayed my disgusted thoughts. Of course Bella would know exactly how easily a child would die. She'd have no compunction about killing one.

"Severus, you are more quiet than usual," the Dark Lord said, turning his scarlet eyes onto me. "Still miffed over having missed the ambush?"

I shrugged, acting for the world as though nothing mattered to me. Better they all think I was petulant about missing the raid than know the truth – that I was livid over never having heard of it at all. Why was I not informed? I, supposedly the most loyal and trusted follower, had heard nothing. Not a whisper. And now I would have to go to Grimmauld and take all kinds of verbal abuse. Wonderful.

Even though I knew what awaited me, I wanted to leave and get to Hogwarts, get the potions, and hurry to Grimmauld. As far as I knew, there were still five people alive who could use my help. If they died because I'd been tied up playing the Dark Lord's lap-pet, I would be furious. Not only would I have their lives to add to the list on my conscience, but I'd have to face Molly Weasley. That though alone was enough to spurn me into action.

"My Lord," I said, showing an air of irritation. "If you no longer need me, there a few students at Hogwarts who are in need of my attention."

"Indeed?" the Dark Lord replied lowly. "And what student, pray do tell, is more important than your master?"

I heeded the warning in his tone, and replied with my voice full of supplication. "I believe you told me, the last time we gathered, that my detentions were too lax. Tonight I have the Weasley girl and Longbottom boy once again. I was going to punish them properly."

The Dark Lord relaxed back into his seat, a cruel smile at his lips. "Ah, yes. You may go, Severus."

I gained my feet, not too rushed, and bowed. He nodded back with a lazy wave of his hand. Going over my mental list once more, I headed for the floo.

"Oh, and Severus?"

I stopped and turned back once more. The smile had grown into something diabolical. Unease slithered down my spine.

"My lord?"

"Do be sure to inform Miss Weasley of her dear deceased Aunt, would you? Such a tragedy. And it looks like some of her brothers are not too far behind. Something like this shouldn't be kept from family, it would be too cruel." Laughter echoed through the room. "Luckily her family procreates like rabbits, so she has others to take their place."

I laughed just like the rest, but inside my gut clenched. I needed to hurry. The green flames took me to my old quarters at Hogwarts. I had one goal – get the potions and get to Grimmauld. If no one was there, I'd tear the ranks apart until I found who was injured. I had to make up for the fact that I had not warned the Order, even though I had not known the attack was coming. They were going to blame me.

My pockets full of vials, I went once more to the fireplace and flooed to Headquarters. I'm not sure what I expected. Panic, surely. Fear. Anger. But what I stepped into was far worse.

Before my eyes could even take in surroundings of the drawing room, my ears were assaulted with the most horrible sound. It was wailing, but so much worse. It rang throughout the whole house. It was so loud, so painful, that I couldn't even begin to try and guess who it was. People were everywhere, blood was everywhere. Shouting, screaming, and that horrible wail. I found the source. Sitting next to a limp figure of a bloodied man was Molly Weasley.

"Molly, you have to let us look!" Lupin yelled, trying to be heard over her inhuman howl.

"He's dead, he's dead," she moaned.

"We don't know that but you have to let us see!"

"NO!"

She threw herself over the body, refusing to let anyone near. I watched as they tried to persuade her to move, my anger growing.

"Oh for God's sake!" I bellowed. Everyone turned to look at me except Molly. I pulled out my wand, took aim, and said, "_Stupefy_!"

The redheaded matriarch fell limp onto the body she'd been holding so tight.

"Severus!" Lupin gasped. "You can't just - !"

"Move her, let me see," I snapped before anyone could try to give me a lecture. Arthur Weasley, looking pale and shell-shocked, gently pulled his wife off the body on the floor and set her on a sofa. Her whole front was covered in scarlet blood.

Bill Weasley. The body was Bill Weasley. I crouched at his side, all hope diminishing when I took in his wounds. The wounds of someone who'd been magically cut over and over – the wounds of the curse I myself had invented. Fleur Delacour was on the other side of his head, staring blankly at her husband's bloodied chest. I reached down and grabbed his wrist, not expecting to find a pulse.

But there was one. There was hope. I reached into one of my many pockets and pulled out the Dittany.

"Lupin!" I snapped.

"Yes, Severus?"

Dabbing the healing essence into Weasley's wounds, I spoke to Lupin without looking at him. "Tell me who is injured in order of most severe to least."

"Bill's the worst," Lupin's hoarse voice said immediately. "Everyone else will survive. Tonks got burned, Fred has a broken arm, George has a cut on his arm, and Charlie may have a concussion."

Over the voices in the room I could hear Tonks moaning fitfully. I'd look at her next. "Is Fred's a clean break?"

"Yes, only in one spot."

"It needs to be set, but I'm going to be busy for a while." I looked up into Lupin's face, saw it go a little green.

"I'll do it."

I nodded. Lupin left and Shacklebolt took his place. I looked away, not ready to deal with the anger yet. I stared instead at Bill's wounds, where the bleeding was beginning to diminish. Slowly moving my wand over the many bleeding marks, I spoke the incantation that almost sounded like a song. The skin sealed itself together almost like a Muggle zipper, leaving angry red welts crisscrossing his torso.

"I know you would have told us, had you known," Shacklebolt's deep, calming voice said.

Finishing the incantation, I looked up. Shacklebolt had seated himself in a chair next to Bill's feet.

"I only just heard," I replied. "I was at the school and then summoned. What happened?"

"They broke through Muriel's wards," Shacklebolt replied tiredly. "They found the location and tore through them. She's dead and everyone who'd been at the house is here now, injured. They would have died had she not fought like a lion. To cap the general panic of today, we just realized that Potter and his friends have vanished again."

My heart stuttered and I went still. "What?"

"We got the wounded here and tried to find Granger, because she's handy with healing spells. They're gone."

Before I could reply, Weasley shifted slightly, opening his eyes. He suddenly sat up abruptly, wincing, and stared around.

"My family-"

"They'll be fine, Weasley, just sit a moment," I said briskly. Leaving him in his wife's hands, I moved over to Nymphadora. I couldn't think about the revelation that Potter, Weasley, and Granger had disappeared again. Not at that moment.

I sensed people staring at me. I felt their gazes almost as much as if they'd reached out to touch me. I worked quickly, wanting to heal everyone and be gone. Shacklebolt's words lessened my guilt slightly, but it doubled when I heard Fred Weasley's inhuman cry of pain as his bone was set.

Nymphadora's burns were terrible, but it seemed as if I'd gotten there in time before they could scar too badly. She'd have marks along the left side of her body, but they wouldn't be too obvious. George healed almost instantly and Charlie would be fine. My work done, I got to my feet and looked around.

The Order stared back.

"Thank you, Severus."

I looked over there was Arthur Weasley. He held out his hand and, after a moment's pause, I took it. No words were needed. I healed the wounded, therefore I was forgiven. Other members of the Order nodded at me as I took my leave. I had once last sweeping glance of the room – Molly conscious and holding Bill's hand so tight that her knuckles were white, Nymphadora knocking back a few fingers of firewhiskey, Fred gritting his teeth as Skele-grow mended the break in his arm, George touching his shoulder.

I left, my mind now free to wonder where the hell Potter, Weasley and Granger had decided to go gallivanting off to.


	7. March 15th, 1998

March 15th, 1998

When the Golden Trio was finally called out on their disappearing acts, I had no part of it. I had only to sit there, in my dark corner with my arms folded and one ankle propped on the opposite knee, and watch.

When I'd arrived earlier in the evening, I'd noticed the general lack of enthusiasm of the Order members. As far as the war went, nothing appeared to be going their way. The Dark Lord was powerful, in charge of the Ministry and Hogwarts. He was gaining followers not out of respect, but fear. Anyone who publically stood against him was wiped out. The people at Number 12, Grimmauld Place, seemed to be the last ones even attempting to try and fight. And they had nothing to show for it.

I had no news to give them. I had nothing. The Dark Lord had not called me to his side in weeks. His last attack on Muriel's home seemed to satisfy him for the moment. He was right in his assumption that the Order had taken a severe blow.

I had only to look at Bill Weasley, scarred on the face from a werewolf and scarred on his chest and arms from a curse, to see how right the Dark Lord was.

The kitchen had fallen into silence. All eyes were downcast and dull. Even the twins, usually so exuberant, were quiet. No one had anything to say, no grand ideas. I felt their depression sinking into me.

Before I knew it, I looked at Granger. I'd been very careful _not_ to look at her for months, either by not going Headquarters or just staying out of her way. It seemed safest that way. But sometimes… my eyes seemed to act of their own accord and would seek her out. That night they found her on the opposite side of the kitchen in her own corner sandwiched between Potter and Weasley.

What immediately struck me was that Potter and Weasley seemed… oddly excited. Granger was staring pensively off into space, her posture not one of defeat but determination. While every single other person in the room was slumped or downcast, the three in the corner were practically vibrating with energy.

My eyes narrowed.

"I don't know what we should do next," Lupin said suddenly, cutting through the silence of the kitchen. "I don't know… what to do."

"None of us do, mate," George replied. "We're no further along in this war than we ever were."

There was a general murmur of agreement through the room. I held in my snort. They were all feeling particularly sorry for themselves and I had no patience for it that night. There were plenty of other things I could do with my time than listen to a group of adults whine. I was depressed enough on my own.

"Oh come on!" Potter said, hopping to his feet. His shining face was almost like an insult to the general gloom of the room. "We're much further than we were!"

"What the bloody hell are you talking about?" Fred demanded. Potter looked over at him and opened his mouth, but no words came forth.

Behind him, Granger shifted in her seat.

"Yes, what _are_ you talking about, Harry?" Nymphadora asked. "Are you talking about something we don't know? Care to enlighten us?"

"I… well… I can't, really," Potter replied, no less chipper than before. The stupid twat had no idea he was digging himself into a hole. I relaxed into my chair, a smirk in place, and watched the action unfold.

"You _can't_," George said, his voice flat. "You can't tell us something that might have an effect on our future? You can't give us just one little thing to let us know all this shite we're dealing with every day is worth it?"

"Hey, George, come on," Ronald said, standing up next to his best friend.

My smirk grew. Now, with his handy sidekick with him to make it worse, my entertainment was about to double.

"Don't 'come on' me, Ron!" George snapped, getting to his own feet. "We're sacrificing our very lives every single day for this cause and we have nothing to show for it other than a Dark Lord growing more and more powerful! Now if you have information, anything at all that can help us, you'd better damn well tell us!"

"We can't!" Potter said. He had obviously just grasped his error. He was dangling a carrot in front of the faces of a dozen hopeless rabbits and had no intention of giving it to them. And now he was realizing how ferocious hungry rabbits can be.

"Why on earth not?" Molly Weasley broke in. "What could it hurt? We can help! You are, after all, just children."

"I promised Dumbledore-"

"Dumbledore is dead, Harry," Lupin interrupted gently.

"I know that!" Potter snapped. "But my promise to him isn't!"

"I just don't understand all this secrecy, boys," Arthur Weasley said, rubbing his eyes under his glasses. "We don't understand why you feel the need to vanish without a word."

"Because you'd never let us leave otherwise!" Ron said, crossing his arms protectively over his chest.

"Of course we wouldn't! It's so dangerous out there and with no help-"

"We don't need your help!" Ronald said triumphantly. "We're doing just fine-"

"At what?" Nymphadora asked, her eyes narrowed.

"_We can't tell you,_" Potter said in exasperation.

"We can help keep you safe," Molly said tearfully. "Whatever you're doing cannot be easy."

"No, it's not, but-"

"With all of us working together, wouldn't that be better?"

"No! It has to be me! No one can know what we're doing! If it somehow got out…"

"You think we're the kind that blabs, then is that it?" Fred asked angrily.

"Of course not!"

More and more voices rose. The kitchen echoed with the many angry words. I sat quietly and watched. People gestured wildly, cursed fluently, and pointed accusing fingers. Someone was going to have to calm everyone down soon, or else everything might fall apart within the Order. But that was not my job.

I glanced over and saw Shacklebolt was also sitting quietly, running his fingers over his mouth and staring at the floor pensively. Lupin had both hands pressed on top of the table and his head bowed in defeat.

And across the room Granger was still seated. Her face was a careful mask as she watched the argument grow. I watched, curious as to what she'd do next. I wasn't prepared for the pure bolt of _interest_ that shot through me when she sucked her lower lip into her mouth and bit down. I watched, heedless of what else was happening in the room as her teeth began to knead that lower lip. It did not occur to me to look away.

Only when she silently got to her feet did I snap out of my reverie. My thoughts were not impure. I simply had not had any thoughts at all as I'd watched her and that startled me more than anything else. I'd sat there, a grown man, and stared stupidly as some girl had sucked on her lip. The thought made me cringe. Thank Merlin the kitchen was basically in chaos and no one had seen.

Granger stepped through the crowd, approached the long table in the middle of the kitchen, and slammed her fist down onto the wood hard enough to have the _thud_ echo through the sharp silence that followed. Everyone jumped at turned to look at her.

Granger's head remained down, no doubt she was looking at her own hand. She didn't even glance at the other people in the room as she said, "Enough."

Her hand was shaking where it still was pressed, in a fist, against the table.

"We aren't going to explain ourselves to anyone," her soft voice continued. The room was so quiet that her voice carried. "Harry made a promise. He's going to keep it. We made a promise to him, and we're going to keep that. None of you have any say in what we do." Her eyes lifted and she searched the kitchen until she found Molly. The apologetic look she sent did not quite match the harshness of her voice. "We are all legally of age. You cannot lock us up here. We have our own mission, one we are very much succeeding at. That is all you need to know. If you attempt to keep us from leaving the next time, and there will be a next time, I will personally destroy every ward and we will not come back."

With that she stood up straight, turned on her heel, and left the kitchen. Potter and Weasley followed like trained dogs.

The shocked silence that followed did not last long, but I had no desire to sit and listen to the chatter. My thoughts were in complete disarray as I left the kitchen, ignoring someone calling my name. Somehow in the six years that I'd taught Granger, I'd completely neglected to realize that she was just as brave as her house boasted.

I always thought she should have been a Ravenclaw. Nothing about her had shouted 'bravery' to me. She was indubitably smart. Any Neanderthal could see that. She was studious. Assertive, certainly. But brave? I'd never witnessed bravery on her part.

But just then, standing up to the entire Order and _saying_, not requesting, what they were going to do about the Trio was… incredible. She could have been eaten alive. At Hogwarts she would have been. Challenging any sort of authority had always terrified her. That was one of her personality flaws I'd detested. Respect was one thing, but her constant sucking-up was cloying.

Somewhere between her last day at Hogwarts and this last Order meeting, Granger had found courage. I almost found that as interesting as I had watching her suck her lip.

With a mental curse I stopped in the middle of the hallway leading to the front door. I gathered every single thought that had just passed through my mind and shoved it into that secret room in the back of my brain and locked the door tight. I would not dwell on such thoughts. Not now. It was much too dangerous. I knew that, I _knew_ it, but for some reason controlling my thoughts when it came to Granger was much harder than it should have been.

I heard muffled voices coming from the room to my right in the hallway and I instantly recognized Potter. Sensing this as a rare opportunity to see what the three were up to, I approached the closed door and listened hard.

"You were brilliant, Hermione," Potter said and even through the wood of the door, I could sense his awe.

"Yeah, that should keep them out of our hair for a while," Weasley replied.

"I feel terrible," Granger said. "But I needed to say something. They just don't understand."

"We're almost done," Potter said, determination strengthening his voice. "We're so close. Only a little longer and it'll be over! Four down…"

_Four what?_

But it seemed they were done talking. I left then, walking through the front door and down the street to a safe Apparition point. It sounded as though they were destroying things. What things? An image swam into my mind of ghostly apparitions floating out of a locket. Were they finding more things like that? What were they? Obviously very Dark artifacts. How could three teenagers be equipped to handle such a task?

Equipped… The sword. Dumbledore had sent me to give them the Sword of Gryffindor. Dumbledore would know… but he'd never tell me. We all had our parts to play. I was the spy. I had my job. Obviously the Golden Trio were handling themselves just fine. Once again, I would have to simply push it from my mind. My curiosity wasn't going to get the best of me.

If I survived, surely one day after the war was over I'd find out everything that was currently transpiring. And if I died… well. It would be just another secret I was never meant to know.


	8. May 4th, 1998

May 4th, 1998

I hated Grimmauld Place. Before the year of 1997, I'd only disliked it. It was like an annoying student, something necessary but highly bothersome. It was a part of my life. The Order could find no safer place.

And then Hermione Granger kissed me in the kitchen, the hub of Order activities. After that Grimmauld Place became even more bothersome, but with an underlying edge of unease. I could run into her at any moment and be caught by surprise. But she stayed out of my way; stayed safely out of reach of my mouth and the evil that spewed from it. Smart girl.

But that made the whole situation worse in a way. At first I couldn't understand my agitation every time I came near the house, but at some point the light dawned. She'd begun to intrigue me. I found myself wanting to speak with her, to hear her opinions. I didn't want her to stay out of my way. The fact that she did, even months after her ambush in the kitchen was almost like a blow.

But I had done that on purpose. That was the whole point. Just because I didn't like it now didn't mean a thing. Every I came near the house, I'd find myself wondering what she was up to, what she was thinking. If she and her idiot friends were still making progress on whatever it was they were doing.

I wondered if she was afraid. Had I been in her place, at the right-hand of the Savior of the World, I'd have been afraid. The thought of her being scared bothered me more than I'd ever admit.

Somehow over the last seven months, even without her speaking a single word to me, she'd turned into something much more important than almost anything else in my life. I should have been worried about Potter. I should have been worried about my own situation. I should have been worried about the war.

But foremost before all that was the young girl who'd made the mistake of kissing me. Did she still think of me? Did she still, for whatever reason, want to kiss me? Would I ever find out?

And then I'd remember that it was Hermione Granger I was thinking about. Had she gone back to Hogwarts for her seventh year, had there been no war, she'd likely still be my student. Such thoughts put a halt to any wanderings of my mind. She was a child, legally of age or no.

But still those thoughts, my wondering of her life and feelings, would occasionally persist. They'd creep up every single time I went to an Order meeting.

She was a liability in my standings at the Dark Lord's side. If he knew, if he ever found out… after killing me for my betrayal he'd go straight after her. Not only because she was in my thoughts more than she should have been, but also because she was the best friend of Harry Potter and a Muggleborn to boot. It would be as though I handed Granger to him on a platter.

And that was why I now hated Grimmauld Place. Every time I had to go there, these thoughts would surface. Any other time I'd be able to push them back into that safe room, lock the door, and not think about her for weeks at a time. But when I approached the magically hidden house, the locked door in my mind would creak open and I'd vividly remember her mouth, her scent. All my thoughts on her would surface. And then she'd be in the meetings and I'd have to look at her, though she never once glanced at me. I couldn't blame her.

I hated the house, I hated the kitchen, I hated the Order for making me go to these useless meetings. But I didn't hate her. I just couldn't make myself.

It didn't even matter, anyhow. I was going to die before the end of the war. That was simply reality. The Dark Lord, once he found where my loyalties truly were, would not permit me to live. Dreaming like a love-struck school boy over Hermione Granger did not change what my future had in store.

As I approached the house, my anger grew. My hatred of that horrible house heightened with each step. I opened the door quietly to avoid the shrill verbal attacks of Mrs. Black and headed to the blasted kitchen. Of course no one was there.

There was no scheduled Order meeting, but I had news I had to give directly to Potter. Within the next few months, the war would be over. The Dark Lord grew restless with Potter still alive and wanted him gone for good. Whatever it was that Potter was working on, he needed to finish it fast.

The house creaked with my every step. Trying to be stealthy with such derelict floors was pointless. I passed empty room after empty room, my irritation growing further.

Where the bloody hell was he? Had the three of them gone off on their own again? It figures that the one time I actually need to speak with Potter himself is when he leaves.

Then I saw the light under the closed door to the library. Good, _someone_ was there at least. If it wasn't Potter, then it might be someone to at least tell me where the hell he was.

I opened the door, fully prepared to walk right into the library but froze when a voice spoke. _Her_ voice.

"Are you two back already?" she asked. I couldn't see her yet. I hadn't opened the door all the way. "Well good because I think I've found something interesting."

I was frozen in place, unsure of what exactly to do next. She was the very last person I wanted any interaction with. I'd have preferred even to speak to Weasley. Was she the only one in the house? But I couldn't just walk away without a word.

"Are you coming in or not?" she said. "Harry? Ron?"

Taking a deep breath, I walked into the library. My face was a mask, showing scorn but inside my heart was pounding. This would be the first time since that moment in the kitchen that she looked at me when I looked at her. What would she do? What would she say?

Her face betrayed no emotion, however, when I found her petite form curled in a chair by the fireplace. It went from bright with anticipation to completely blank. She had a book open on her lap.

"Professor Snape," she said. Even her voice had no emotion. Her eyes dropped down to her book. "Was there something you needed?"

I swallowed back my bitter disappointment. I was hoping at least for a little uneasiness. Some shyness. But I got nothing.

"I need to speak with Potter," I said.

"He's not here at the moment."

She never once looked up from her book. I couldn't see her eyes at all. I clenched my jaw, took a deep breath, and tried again.

"Well where is he?"

"He and Ron are picking up groceries," she replied easily, as though speaking to a student. "I'll let him know you needed a word with him when he returns."

She was dismissing me. The little chit was actually dismissing _me_.

"It's rather important," I said through my teeth, putting extra emphasis on that last 't'.

"If you want to leave a message with me, I'll tell him," she said. She wasn't even slightly ruffled.

"I'd rather just tell Potter."

"Then feel free to stay and wait," she said lightly. "I believe there is still some of Mrs. Weasley's stew left in the kitchen."

She was dismissing me _again_. I stared at her in shock, though she didn't see it. She was still staring down at that blasted book in her lap. For once, I had no comeback. I could not think of a single thing to say to her.

Shifting deeper into her chair, Granger licked a fingertip to turn the page. I watched helplessly as her tongue curled around the pad of her middle finger. Snapping to my senses, I cleared my throat and stood taller. I refused to let some girl get the better of me.

"I have better things to do with my time than eat your leftovers," I said snidely.

She sighed, sounding quite put-upon, and I internally beamed. _Aha_, I thought. _Finally got through that armor._

"Professor," she said, sounding as though she were talking to a toddler. Her eyes lifted and found mine once more. "You can either stay, or go. Either way it doesn't affect me whatsoever. If you have other things you need to do right now, feel free to tell me what you need Harry to know and I'll inform him. I promise."

I then realized my error. She wasn't intimidated by me at all. She was annoyed that I had interrupted her reading. She didn't have any armor up because she didn't need any armor up. I… _had no effect on her whatsoever._

All that time I wondered… did she still think if me? If she did, what did she think about? Here was my answer.

No.

I felt my puffed-up sense of self-importance deflate. Never once changing my expression, after all I _was_ a spy, I answered her.

"The Dark Lord grows restless with Potter's survival," I said neutrally. Granger frowned. "Within the next two months, he will attempt to lure Potter out. Whether through Legilimency or some other means, I know not. But it will indeed be a trap. Whatever it is the three of you are up to, it must finish soon. And tell Potter than _he must not do anything rash_. He must be prepared for any situation and not jump into anything without thinking it through. This is vitally important."

Her face paled, but she held herself in check. Her eyes became slightly blank, though she still looked right at me. I could tell she was no longer seeing me. Her mind was already in motion, no doubt planning for the future. Of the three, she had always had more brains than Potter and Weasley combined.

"I… I'll tell him," she said quietly. Her voice shook. "Thank you Professor."

The title irked me. She irked me. The whole bloody situation pissed me off. How dare she tie me in knots for months and then treat me like a child? How dare she ignore me and then be so condescending? How dare she call me 'Professor' as though nothing had changed… Everything had changed.

I knew none of this was her fault, that I'd made something out of everything in my own mind, but it was far easier to blame her.

"Granger, I'm no longer your _Professor_," I snarled. I wanted some reaction from her. Something other than cool disregard. But she only nodded absently, returned her eyes to her book.

"Of course, Sir."

I nearly growled. Nothing was going to rattle her. I gripped the doorframe hard in my hand. Why did she affect me so?

"Well," I said. Idiotically, no doubt. "I suppose this is goodbye then."

I turned to leave but once again her voice stopped me.

"What do you mean?"

I looked over my shoulder at her. "I doubt we'll see each other again, Granger. When the battle comes, when Potter faces the Dark Lord, my loyalties will be revealed. The Dark Lord does not take kindly to traitors."

She went rigid. "You mean…"

"He'll kill me, yes," I said easily. I stepped through the door. "Good evening, Granger."

I strode through the halls, my heart turning dark. I was an idiot. I was a fool. What was one kiss, really? Why had it turned into such a life-changing moment for me? Why had it affected me so? I was a grown man, for God's sake. A grown… _moron_.

I had to get back to Hogwarts. I had to sequester myself, shove these memories and thoughts aside. They were a huge liability. I was ashamed of them, of myself. How utterly absurd, to turn myself inside out over a measly kiss that I had not even reciprocated.

_Idiot, idiot, idiot…._

"Wait!"

Almost like a puppet on a string, I came to complete halt.

"What do you want, Granger?" I demanded, not even bothering to turn and looked at her. I heard the pounding of her feet on the hardwood floor. It grew louder and louder and then suddenly halted. I could sense her right at my back.

"You're sure you're going to die?" she asked in a whisper. I closed my eyes.

"Why do you care?" I replied, sounding for all the world like the evil Potions Bat of the Dungeons.

Her silence galled me. She'd bloody stopped me and now she wouldn't speak? I turned and glared down at her. She stood less than a foot away. There wasn't much light, but I could see her pale, heart-shaped face. Her eyes were unnaturally huge in the darkness, her lips almost white. It was so reminiscent of that night seven months ago in the kitchen that my breath caught. True, she was wearing denims and an old purple jumper, her hair was free and curling madly around her face. But her expression, so earnest and innocent…

"I… I care because…" Her voice was shaking. "You have so much to live for!"

I wanted to step back but her words held me in place. I stared at her incredulously. "So much to live for? Are you daft?"

"You do!" she said. Her little hands balled into fists. "You're so smart, so brilliant. Surely the world needs you?"

"But use have I of the world?"

She frowned but wouldn't give up. "But surely you… you don't _want_ to die?"

"Miss Granger," I said with a sigh. She was so naïve… "Of course I don't want to die. But I am realistic. It is better to accept what is coming that to have delusions about-"

"No!"

She looked so furious, so passionate. I shook my head, still staring into her eyes. "Why do you care?" I asked again in a whisper. I damned myself as the next sentence poured from my mouth. "You just said I had no effect on you whatsoever."

She stepped closer, her chest almost touching mine. My heart nearly stopped. She glared at me as she grabbed my shoulders.

"I lied," she whispered. And then she kissed me.

Her lips were against mine, her body pressed into mine. And then it was all gone as she shoved herself back. I didn't even have time to think, to reach for her, and she had pushed herself away from me and backed into the wall, looking mortified. Her hand came up to her mouth.

"I-I'm sorry," she stammered. "I shouldn't have-"

I didn't let her finish. My mind was blissfully blank as I reached out and grabbed her wrist and hauled her into my chest. She had a half-second, long enough to gasp, before I swooped down and kissed her again. I wouldn't stand passively this time, I wouldn't keep myself composed. I wouldn't push her away.

Her mouth was so much sweeter than I remembered, so much better than a memory. This moment was mine to have. I was tired of trying not to think about it, to think about _her_. To do the right thing. What was the right thing anymore? She cared about my life. She cared… about me.

I kissed her hard, swallowing her every breath, her every tiny little moan. Had she ever been kissed thus? I didn't care. I wrapped her tight, holding her as close as I could. She was so small, so compact compared to me. I nearly lifted her off her feet. Her arms wriggled between our bodies, up to my head. I worried for a moment that she might hit me, but no. She was sliding her hands up to my face, caressing me as she began to kiss me back.

I nearly moaned when I felt her small, sleek tongue press into my mouth. My head went light on my shoulders and I lost my balance, sending us careening into the wall. But she didn't release my mouth. I was going to have bruises on my arms, but it didn't matter. My embrace gentled, my mindless need abating somewhat.

Our kisses became soft, lingering nudges of lips. Her arms wrapped around my neck and she arched into me, pressing us even closer. It was heaven. I'm still not sure how long we were like that, pressed against a wall and kissing like our lives depended on it. I never wanted it to end.

But reality crashed in, as it is wont to do. I heard the front door open with a thud, followed by a few swear words. Mrs. Black began screaming like a banshee. I pulled my head up, but couldn't seem to release my hold on the girl in my arms. She seemed reluctant to let me go as well.

"_Stupefy_!"

The shrieking ended immediately.

"Oi, Ron, help me with these bags, yeah? They're bloody heavy."

I began to loosen my grip, but Hermione shook her head and held me tighter.

"No," she whispered. "Don't go yet, not now-"

"I must," I murmured, looking into her eyes again. She looked panicked.

"But when will I-"

I held my finger to her lips, demanding silence. From the entrance I could hear Potter and Weasley's muffled voices as they moved to the kitchen, which was right around the corner from where we stood still in each other's arms.

Not breaking eye contact and still keeping my finger to her mouth, I replied, my voice low, "I don't know when. But I do know that you've given me something to live for. I will not accept death so readily now. For that I…" I trailed my finger up to where a tear threatened to fall from her eye. "I thank you."

Before she could reply, before she could try to regain her hold on me, I pushed away. I hear her sound of distress and I desperately wanted to turn back to her, to hold her again, but I didn't. I strode down the hallway, new purpose strengthening me. Potter saw me and went still.

"Snape?" he said, bewildered. "What are you-?"

"Talk to Granger," I snapped. "I have somewhere else I have to be."

_Anywhere but here,_ I thought. _Anywhere but here, where I'll just go back to her._

I had work to do, plans to make. I wouldn't go down without a fight. If I died, it wouldn't be on bended knee. I had something to live for now.

I had some_one_ to live for.


	9. May 31st, 1998

May 31st, 1998

As I walked through the abandoned halls of Hogwarts castle, Dumbledore's words, the ones his portrait had just spoken to me, bounced inside my head.

*"_Tell him that on the night Lord Voldemort tried to hill him, when Lily cast her own life between them as a shield, the Killing Curse rebounded upon Lord Voldemort, and a fragment of Voldemort's soul was blasted apart from the whole, and latched itself onto the only living soul left in that collapsing building…"*_

I stepped through the front doors of the castle and entered a world of chaos. Death Eaters, Order members, and the students I had pledged to protect were everywhere. Blasts of light from fired off curses and spells lit the night. The grounds, which hours ago had been deserted, were filled with moving bodies, and some that were no longer moving. As I walked further, still oddly blank and musing on the words of the previous headmaster, I saw the still form of a masked Death Eater. I moved on.

*"_Part of Lord Voldemort lives inside Harry, and it is that which gives him the power of speech with snakes, and a connection with Lord Voldemort's mind that he has never understood…"*_

With each step, horror filled me. I knew I was in the midst of sound, blasts and screams, but I did not hear them. I only heard Dumbledore's tired voice.

*"_And while that fragment of soul, unmissed by Voldemort, remains attached to and protected by Harry, Lord Voldemort cannot die."*_

I had to find Potter. That was my latest mission. As of that moment, I was no longer a spy. This battle, the fighting surrounding me, was the end. My loyalties were to Dumbledore and the Order. And I had to tell Potter… I had to say…

*"_So the boy… the boy must die?"*_

Automatically I deflected curses sent my way by the students who had no idea what I had gone through to protect them. To them, I was the head Death Eater. They did not know my purpose, they did not understand. So I blocked their weak spells and continued on, a morbid purpose propelling me forward. I had to tell Harry Potter that he needed to die.

*"_And Voldemort himself must do it."*_

How did you tell someone, someone whom you didn't even like, that the fact of their life was that they had to die? In order to save the world, they needed to _die_. Potter had been brought up, on the verge of manhood, only to be stopped short. And he had to do it willingly. He had to let Voldemort kill him. All his fighting, all his planning, all his… everything was for naught. He thought he'd kill the big bad wizard and save the world, but it was the other way around. Someone else was going to do what Potter thought had been his job. And all the while, he'll be dead.

All hatred, all annoyance with the son of my childhood enemy was gone only to be replaced with… pity. His life would be snuffed out within a matter of hours, if not minutes. All time for hate was gone.

But first I had to find him.

Everywhere I looked, people were wearing black. Whether it be the robes of the Death Eaters or the school uniform, black was everywhere. Add to the general confusion the fact that it was night, and my task was nearly impossible. I moved forward, through duels and fights, a constant shell of a protection charm surrounding me. The Death Eaters thought I was one of them, the Order members knew I was one of them, and the students… those poor children didn't have the magical power to break through my shield. They didn't have the power to take out an opponent. And I didn't have the power to make them go back to the castle. This was their choice.

Yaxley went down just as I passed. I looked up into the eyes of Granger and reality narrowed down to just the two of us. She stood still for a moment, staring at me just as I stared at her. Her chest rose and fell with her labored breathing but she looked exhilarated and determined.

"I'll find you after," she said. I nodded and before I could speak, she'd run off. I watched her bushy hair fly behind her as she ran, throwing out jets of red light from her wand as she Stunned almost everyone in her path.

I hadn't had time to ask her where Potter was, but it was obvious he wasn't with her. Pushing all thoughts of her aside, I moved on.

I searched every single face. When I came upon any young ones that shone with fear, I cast a silent _Protego_ and moved on. Before they'd come out to battle, they'd probably been full of fighting spirit. But the horror of actual fighting, of real death, was too much for some to bear.

But then there were others; Longbottom – _Longbottom_ – was fighting like a champion. I watched in astonishment as three hooded figures collapsed at once from the power of his spell. Ginevra Weasley was nearly snarling as she battled another.

I found Potter near the Quidditch Pitch. Weasley was at his side, both sweating and fighting like lions. My purpose nearly wavered. He was fighting so hard, fighting for a cause he believed in, fighting to end it. But his fight was nearly done. I watched as he used Stunning and Disarming spells; he still refused to hurt his enemies. I shook my head. I didn't have time, and neither did he, for him to dance about, trying to be noble.

I raised my wand, pointed it at the Death Eater in front, and muttered, "_Incendio_!" His robes burst into flames and he stopped fighting immediately, crying out and running for the lake. I repeated the spell on the remaining three, and soon they'd all run off.

"What the hell?" Potter screamed, moving to follow them.

"Potter!" I snapped, hurrying up to him. He stopped in his tracks and looked at me in bewilderment.

"Snape?" he asked stupidly. "What are you doing?"

"What am I doing?" I demanded. "I'm saving your arse, that's what I'm doing! Now I have to speak with you, out of the way of the fight-"

"It'll have to wait!" he said with a shake of his head. "I'm busy here-"

"NOW, Potter," I interrupted. I'm not sure if it was my voice, or the look on my face, but he obeyed. He looked around wildly for a moment and then grabbed both me and Weasley and headed for the men's locker rooms.

As the door shut behind us, he spun on his heel. "What, what, _what_?" he said furiously. "What is so damn important? My friends are _dying_ out there!"

Weasley had placed himself at the door to keep everyone out, but his eyes blazed as much as Potter's as they both looked at me. This was it – the moment that would change the world. I looked at Potter, standing before me in clothes that were too large and covered in dirt. His glasses were cracked.

"Potter," I started and I was shocked to hear my voice was barely a croak. "I've just spoken with Dumbledore's portrait. There is information you need to know." His eyes widened and he straightened, listening eagerly. I nearly groaned. He was so willing, so impatient. "He told me of the night the Dark Lord murdered your parents. He said…"

I couldn't do it. I couldn't tell him. The words wouldn't come. I closed my eyes and turned away, completely unwilling to ruin this boy's world.

"He said _what_?" Potter nearly screamed. I felt his hand hit my shoulder, trying to prompt me into speech. "What did he say?"

I called on every single ounce of courage I had. It wasn't my place to deny Potter his future, as short as it may be.

"When Voldemort used the Killing Curse on you, it rebounded and hit him instead," I said hollowly, refusing to open my eyes. It was the coward's way, but the only way I'd be able to speak. "It fractured his soul, blasting a piece off. That piece attached itself to the only living soul in the building. Yours."

There was utter silence around me. I didn't even hear the boys breathing. But I continued.

"There is a living part of the Dark Lord inside of you, Potter. And while you live, it lives. While it lives, the Dark Lord cannot die. Do you… do you understand what that means?"

Finally I heard a breath. It was shaking. I turned, opened my eyes, and stared at the boy. He was so pale. He stared at me in horror for a moment. But then he blinked, and it was like a light dawned.

"So… I have to die?" he asked. "Is that… what you're saying? I'm going to die?"

"Yes," I whispered. "And the Dark Lord is the one that must do it."

He nodded. "Right. Well, that won't be hard to manage."

"No!" Weasley screamed. "No! No, there must be another way!"

He shoved himself away from the door and grabbed Potter's shoulders, reeling him around until they faced each other.

"There is no other way, Ron," Potter said.

Weasley shook his head. "I refuse to believe that," he said, eyes filling with tears. "No, we'll find another way."

"There's no time!" Harry said sharply, grabbing the freckled hand on his shoulders. "Look, he'll kill me, killing the last Horcrux, and then he'll be wide open! You can do that Ron, kill him and he'll be gone for good!"

"We haven't even found the stupid snake yet-"

"Snake?" I said abruptly. "What snake?"

"Voldemort's snake-"

Before I even had time to wonder what the hell they needed Nagini for, Potter screamed. Weasley and I looked at him in shock as he bent forward at the waist, grabbing his head.

"Harry, what-?"

"He's got Hermione!" Potter moaned. "He… he's furious… she killed the snake…"

Weasley gasped. I stared at Potter hard. The Dark Lord had Hermione? If she killed Nagini he'd kill her. There was no way around that. My heart began thud sickeningly in my chest.

Potter continued, his hands clamped like claws in his hair. "He wants to know why… he's… he's looking into her mind… he… _he knows_!"

"No," Weasley gasped.

"He's knows what we were doing!" Potter yelled, eyes still shut tight. "He knows there are none left! He…he…" Potter's eyes opened and he looked at me, his eyes full of pain and confusion. "He saw you," he said to me. "He saw you in her mind, in the meetings. He knows about you now, and he saw…. But I don't understand…"

I shoved Potter out of my way and escaped the locker room. I had to find her. The Dark Lord knew of my betrayal. For some reason it was imperative that I see her, look her in the eye before I died. Perhaps the Dark Lord would kill us together. I heard Potter running behind me. We were both on our way to our destinies. On our way to die.

It didn't escape my notice that the fighting had stopped. I followed the direction that everyone seemed to be facing. All were standing perfectly still, staring toward the forest. It was eerily quiet apart from the pounding of my, Potter's and Weasley's feet in the ground. I pushed someone out of my way and finally saw what everyone was staring at.

The Dark Lord was standing in front of the forest with one arm outstretched. Hermione was dangling off the ground in the grip of his hand around her throat. She was utterly limp, her front covered in blood. At her feet was the carcass of Nagini, the head separated from the body. One of Hermione's arms was bleeding and as I came to a halt in front of the crowd, I watched the scarlet trail drip from her fingertips.

"Ah," Lord Voldemort said softly. "Severus. How good of you to come. You see, I have a few… _questions_ for you."

I didn't spare him a glance. My eyes were for Hermione alone. She looked at me, tears streaming down her pale face, and mouthed _'I'm sorry.'_ I wanted to tell her it wasn't her fault, that it didn't matter. But all I could do was stand there.

"Severus," Voldemort continued. "I just had the most intriguing turn about this young Mudblood's mind." I clenched my teeth but didn't rise to the bait. "And what did I see? Why, I saw you. I saw you… with _them_. With the Order. Are you going to tell me that you were simply gathering information for me?"

I stayed silent. Hermione began to shake in Voldemort's unwavering grip. Small spasms that began in the arm that was bleeding.

"Silence, my friend?" Voldemort taunted. "You don't want to defend yourself?"

"No," I said calmly. "No, I don't."

"No? How odd. So you're saying… you were with the Order because…?"

"Because I am a member of the Order," I said. "I was at the meetings giving _them_ information, not gathering it for you."

Voldemort's slit-like nostrils flared. I should have been terrified, but all I could think was, _'I can't wait for it to be over'_. Hermione shook harder. It would be over for her as well. As far as I could see, there was no hope for her. Perhaps I'd find her in the afterlife.

"I see," Voldemort hissed. "And… how long has this been going on?"

"Since the night you killed Lily Evans," I replied. Part of me was a bit mortified to be speaking about my private life in front of a huge crowd of people, but I was to die soon anyway. It wouldn't make that much of a difference for me.

"I told you," he snarled, "that she wouldn't get out of the way. I told you that I tried to get her to save herself. I told you that, but she wouldn't just _move_!"

I shrugged inelegantly. I'd heard this before. It didn't matter. It didn't change what happened. Not too long now… soon it would be over.

But Voldemort seemed to change tactics in the blink of an eye. One moment he was nearly spitting with rage, and then he looked thoughtful. His mouth widened into a gruesome form of a smile.

"You and your Mudbloods, Severus," he said, his voice carrying across the grounds. "First you fall in love with Lily Evans, and then you seem to have a fondness for _this_ little piece as well." He shook Hermione then, and her head snapped sideways like a limp doll's.

I cried out in alarm, taking a step forward. Her shaking was worsening, her eyes were glazing over. I didn't know what was wrong with her, but she was obviously suffering. I went to move forward, but Voldemort threw up a spell that acted like an invisible wall. I couldn't get any closer.

"I saw her throw herself at you," Voldemort said. "I saw you push her away, but it was obviously just a façade wasn't it? Just like your supposed loyalty to me. Tell me, is there any truth to you? Because you pushed her away, and then I found another memory. One where you kissed her quite willingly. I must say, I don't understand you at all."

"Put her down," I snarled.

Voldemort's high-pitched laughter echoed around me. "You don't seem to realize, Severus, that it doesn't matter what I do to her now. She's already dying and I didn't have to do a thing…" He loosened his grip and she fell to the earth with a loud _thump_. She folded into unnatural positions, almost as if she'd been broken into pieces. I slammed my hand against the invisible wall with fury, but it didn't give.

"You know what I do to those who betray me, don't you Severus?" Voldemort asked calmly. I ignored him.

She wasn't moving. Her legs were bent oddly, her arms flung sideways. Her head was facing away from me. I couldn't see her eyes, I couldn't see if she was breathing. My vision blurred. I pounded fruitlessly at the wall. I wanted to see her, touch her, before I died… I wanted to take her with me… But I couldn't tear down the wall. This was how it was going to be. I'd die on this side, she'd die on that side.

But I'd find her again. I flickered my eyes to Voldemort, watched him raise his wand. I was ready for my end.

"Tom!"

The voice rang out in the night. Potter had finally decided to make his presence known. I didn't bother to turn around. The little shite had put off my death even longer. Finally I was ready, I wanted death, and Potter, yet again, had to ruin it.

"What did you call me?" Voldemort hissed.

"Tom," Potter said defiantly. "Tom Marvolo Riddle."

The crowd gasped and murmured. I looked back at Hermione. She hadn't moved.

"How dare you…" Voldemort hissed.

"Tom Marvolo Riddle," Potter continued, almost sounding as though he were singing a crude song. "The son of a demented Pureblood and the Muggle she'd Confunded. That's right, you're not exactly Pureblooded yourself, are you, Tom?"

Even I had to be a little amazed at Potter's audacity. I was tempted to look at him, if only incredulously, but there was no time. One moment of charged silence, then there was a flash of green light, hundreds of screams of shock, and then the wall my hand was still touching vanished. I fell forward a few steps.

When I regained my balance I saw that Voldemort had apparently crumpled. People were shouting, gasping, calling out to Merlin or God. I turned and saw that Potter had collapsed as well. I couldn't make sense of it, I couldn't understand anything. There was an odd buzzing in my ears and my mind had gone blank. But then I saw Hermione's still form beside the mangled body of Nagini and my purpose returned. I hurried forward, ignoring the people who swarmed in to check the bodies of the Dark Lord and the Savior.

I kicked the head of Nagini aside and knelt down beside Hermione. I pulled her close, and nearly cried with relief when I saw she was breathing, though they were short, shallow breaths. I tilted her head towards me; her eyes were closed. She was unconscious, but alive. _Alive_. The blood covering her front was obviously from the snake, but her arm was still bleeding. I looked at the wound and saw fang marks. She'd been bitten.

My mind raced with what steps I would need to take next, which potions and which spells to contain the poison, and I moved to get to my feet with her still in my arms. I could get her to my quarters in the castle, I had anti-venin there. I had a whole stock of things that would be useful but I didn't have time to waste.

As I moved to stand, more screams rent the air. All I could think was, '_God, what now?_' People started running away from where I was. My stomach plunged when I saw that Voldemort was moving, shifting on the ground. I held Hermione close and watched as those red eyes opened, as that pale body sat up.

But not fifteen feet away, Potter was also moving. His wand lay at his side. Both figures sat up completely and looked confused. But for once, Potter seemed to get a grasp of the situation quicker than that of his opponent. He snatched up his wand and got to his knees in the same motion. Voldemort shifted as well, lifting his arm.

"_Expelliarmus!"_

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

Red light clashed with green. This time only one body fell. Potter stumbled forward, his face slack as he approached the still form of Lord Voldemort. He grabbed the wand out of Voldemort's limp, spider-like hand and snapped it in two. Falling to his knees, he hesitantly reached his fingers to the pulse point in Voldemort's neck.

There was silence for one beat. Two. Three.

"He's dead."

_He's dead, he's dead, he's dead._

The words rippled through the crowd, growing louder and louder.

_He's dead, he's dead._

_HE'S DEAD!_

As cheers erupted, as celebratory fireworks lit the skies, as Death Eaters either ran or gave themselves up right away, I looked at the girl in my arms once more. I really had to get her to Hogwarts. I didn't have time to celebrate. I felt someone kneel at my side.

"Is she alright?" Potter asked. Weasley appeared in front of us, looking down at Hermione worriedly.

"I need to get her to the castle-" I began, but she shifted on her own and the three of us looked at her.

Her eyes opened slowly and when she saw me, she smiled. My heart leaped in my chest.

"Hermione!" Potter gasped. "You'll be okay! We're going to-"

But she started to convulse, going rigid in my grip. We stared, all of us, helplessly as green foam dribbled out between her lax lips. I'd waited too long.

I watched powerlessly as the venom overcame her system. As she began to die in my arms.

* * *

Author's Note: The quotes, marked by a *, are taken from the American version of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, page 686. I wanted to make sure the information was as accurate as possible.


	10. June 1998

June 1998

_**June 1st**_

The chairs in the waiting room of St. Mungo's were as uncomfortable as they looked. I couldn't seem to sit still, not that I could relax. I'd managed to slow the venom in Hermione's system on the battlefield with a spell, but it couldn't be stopped. Not without the proper procedures and potions. I didn't waste time thinking I could do it myself. I knew I was not mentally prepared. So I'd left Hogwarts, went to the closest Apparition point and taken her directly to St. Mungo's. They didn't know about the fall of the Dark Lord yet, but all I had to do was flash my Dark Mark and I had immediate entrance.

They took her from me and wouldn't let me follow. They couldn't have distractions – she was in very bad shape. One Healer told me that she wouldn't make it through the night.

I sat in that chair for six hours before anyone else arrived. Potter, still covered in dirt and blood, entered the hospital, saw me, and came to my side. Without a word, he sat down and waited with me. The Healers recognized him, saw him sitting with me, of all people. They were obviously confused, but didn't make any comment.

Weasley arrived not long after. He brought his sister, who went directly to Potter, and his father, who sat on my other side.

"It was difficult not to hear Voldemort's words about you and Hermione at Hogwarts," the older man said quietly.

I didn't reply. He was silent after that, but his presence wasn't hostile. He was there to keep me company, to offer support. I was astonished how much that meant to me.

Together, we waited. I wouldn't leave. I would stay as long as it took because I knew I was in love with her.

_**June 2**__**nd**_

She made it through the night, but barely. They still wouldn't let me see her. She was open to infection, to disease. She was not to have any visitors other than high-level Healers for the foreseeable future. I didn't leave the waiting room.

_**June 4**__**th**_

My companions came and went, leaving long enough to clean themselves up and get food. I wouldn't leave. It was completely irrational, but I couldn't make myself leave. They'd bring me food and wave off my comments of paying them back at a later date. Potter and Weasley stayed more than anyone else. They spoke to each other, usually about inane topics. They didn't try to pull me into the conversation. I rarely spoke other than to thank someone for feeding me.

_**June 5**__**th**_

One Healer came up to us (Potter, Weasley, and Ginevra were with me at the time) and told us to follow her. I'd thought she was taking us to Hermione, that we'd finally be able to see her, but no. They'd set up a room for us just down the hall from where Hermione was quarantined.

"This will be more comfortable than those chairs," was all the Healer said. She gave me a brief smile, laugh lines becoming prominent about her eyes. She had the look of a mother. I nodded my thanks and entered the room.

There were two beds and several chairs. The window overlooked an alley down below. The three teenagers sat on one bed, leaving the other to me.

_**June 8**__**th**_

Hermione's condition was stabilizing somewhat. The Healers who came to give me updates still had that look in their eye, the one that silently told hopeful family members and friends not to get _too_ hopeful. It was still more likely that she would die than that she would live. I knew that more than any of the others who came to wait with me.

_**June 11**__**th**_

No change. Not in three days. Not better, not worse.

The room I occupied almost always had at least three other people in it as well. They would come and go, but I was never alone. They loved Hermione. Games would be played, the radio turned on for more news. Everyone refused to believe she would die. So it was never a depressing atmosphere. Sometimes I wished they'd just leave, but then I'd hear their laughter, their hopeful voices and knew I'd go mad if they left.

But I could sense the curiosity in the people around me. They'd send me the odd look, wondering what to make of me. Wondering at my attachment to Hermione. No one asked, though. Only Potter seemed uninterested in the details.

He would distract them by reading the newspaper. Celebrations unlike anything the wizarding world had seen in nearly seventeen years were taking place outside. The thought of joining in was offensive to me as Hermione struggled to live just down the hallway.

But the big news topic was the apparent hero-like actions of Severus Snape. I didn't say a word as Potter read about me to the room. Everyone looked at me, but I ignored them. Aurors wanted to speak with me, the press wanted to interview me. No one would say where I was. As far as the world outside the hospital new, I'd vanished. The Healers didn't say a word. The Order was silent. They were covering for me.

While my actions seemed like that of a hero, there were still things I had to be held accountable for. I'd done many illegal things, things that could get me sent to prison. I knew this. So did everyone else. But… they still didn't say where I was.

_**June 13**__**th**_

The Lovegood girl was there that day. Her large, oddly blank eyes didn't stop staring at me. I was on the verge of telling her to bugger the hell off when she approached. I glared at her but she'd never been intimidated by me.

She sat on the edge of my bed, her long, tangled tawny hair brushing the coverlet as she leaned a little closer. I frowned harder.

"Take this," she murmured, holding out a Galleon.

"No," I answered.

"It's not money," she said, still quietly. There were others in the room, curious but still keeping their distance. She spoke low enough that they wouldn't hear.

"I don't want it," I said.

"You need to go, Professor," she said, unimpressed with my attitude. "You haven't bathed since the battle and you need fresh clothes. You can hold onto this. If we get any news of Hermione, I'll touch it and it'll get hot, letting you know to hurry back. You don't even have to be gone for long. This way you won't worry about missing anything."

I stared at her. If anyone else had approached me, I'd have ripped them apart. But she didn't show pity. She didn't show any emotion, really. It was true, I needed to bathe. The cleansing charms only did so much.

I took the coin and Disapparated without a word. I'd never showered or dressed so fast in my life. But it didn't matter.

Still no change in Hermione.

_**June 15**__**th**_

"She's no longer as susceptible to infection," the Healer said. "We can allow only a few visitors at a time, and you must use sterilization charms before entering the room, but you can see her. Who's coming with me?"

All heads turned to me. I stepped forward, and so did Potter. The Healer led us out of the room and down the hall. We were taken into a white anti-chamber and had our clothes, skin, and hair sterilized. I didn't know what to expect when we entered Hermione's room. I knew she was still unconscious, that she wouldn't know we were there. But I was going to finally be able to see her.

The room was dim. There were no windows. The light that came from hovering orbs only let out enough light to maneuver about the room. In the very middle of the space was a bed surrounded by sensors and iridescent numbers hovering over the still body tucked in.

There was a breathing mask on her face, feeding her oxygen because she still couldn't breathe on her own. The lower half of her face was hidden. Her eyes were closed. Her hair had been put into a braid that trailed over her shoulder.

She'd lost weight. Her collarbone was almost sharp now as it stuck out. The numbers showed her heart rate, her brain patterns, and how much venom was still in her system. I saw there wasn't much and that gave me hope.

I took the chair on her left side, the side where there was still an angry bite mark in her arm. I looked at it blankly. It was placed exactly where I had the Dark Mark on my arm.

Potter took the chair on her other side. Together, in silence, we waited.

_**June 19**__**th**_

I was at her side when it happened. The moment the last bit of venom passed through her system and left her body, the healing potions they'd been giving her from the beginning began to take effect. The venom had left damage to her entire body, and it would take time to heal it all.

But it would be healed.

_**June 22**__**nd**_

"Magical Law Enforcement is getting impatient," Potter said conversationally.

I huffed and settled more deeply into my chair, refusing to comment.

"They're practically stalking every single member of the Order," Potter continued. "Of course they're not allowed in here, thank Merlin. Kingsley's trying to keep them in check but… they know you're here."

Not surprising. Word had gotten out about my…attachment to Hermione Granger. Voldemort's last words were being repeated everywhere. All and sundry knew that I'd kissed the girl. They also knew that I'd last been seen with her foaming at the mouth in my arms and that she magically turned up into the Intensive Poison Unit of St. Mungo's. But the staff at the hospital seemed to like me, or at least approve of me, and wouldn't let the press or any law enforcement get close.

"You know…" Potter's voice became softer. "One word from me and it will all disappear."

That was probably true. He was, in every sense of the word, The Savior. He'd saved the world. He could snap his fingers and have every wish granted. And now that I knew what he and his friends had gone through (Potter and Weasley had told the whole room about the Horcruxes and I'd been within hearing distance at the time), even I had to admit that he'd earned it. But if he could have made my situation with the law disappear, why hadn't he?

"What do you want?" I asked, my voice croaky from disuse. I didn't even look at him. I kept my eyes on Hermione, who was gaining a little color in her cheeks. "Do you want to know my intentions towards your friend?"

"No," Potter said dismissively. I looked at him in surprise. "It's obvious your intentions towards her. You've barely left her side and even when you do, it's for about five minutes at a time. No, I know your intentions. And I saw into her mind that night through my connection with Voldemort. I know her intentions as well. It's really none of my business anyway. No, I want to know… what was your relationship with my mother?"

I sighed and closed my eyes. I knew this was coming. I'd rather hoped it wouldn't.

"And if I decide not to say?" I asked.

"Well… I think you know the answer to that."

The little shit. "Fine," I said, opening my eyes and staring at Hermione again.

I told him everything. I told him of my friendship with his mother before Hogwarts, how we'd been the best of friends even though we were in different houses. I told him how I'd fallen in love with her. How James Potter had always been my rival, and how I'd wanted to impress her but went about it the wrong way. I'd gotten in too deep with the Death Eaters and then it was too late. She married Potter and I was furious.

"And then I heard the Prophesy," I said. "I used it. I told the Dark Lord that I would give him the Prophecy if he'd leave Lily alive. I wanted her. Are you disgusted with me?"

I looked over at him for the first time since I began my tale. He just shrugged.

"I might have done the same thing," he said.

"No you wouldn't," I replied. "You're too much like your mother. But that's what I did. But he broke his promise. He killed her. That night I went to Dumbledore. The rest… you know the rest."

Potter was silent for a long time. I wanted him to say something, to do something. But he didn't say a word. A Healer came in after a while and checked Hermione's numbers. Before she left, she looked at the two of us seated, like always, at Hermione's side.

"You know," she said conversationally. "Now that Hermione's out of the danger zone, you can touch her. Sometimes patients can feel someone holding their hand. It gives them something to… it gives them something." She shrugged. "Just a thought."

And she left. Without hesitation, Potter reached for Hermione's hand. I did the same, though I was loathe to do it in front of anyone. But the thought that I could touch her, just her hand, was too tantalizing. Her skin was soft and warm.

"I would have told the Aurors to back off anyway," Potter said suddenly. "Even if you hadn't have told me."

I couldn't help the small laugh. It was more like a release of air than anything but I was amused.

"How very… Slytherin of you," I replied, tightening my hold of Hermione's hand. "And I would have told you the truth… eventually… even without your blackmail."

"How very… Hufflepuff of you," he said with a cheeky grin.

We shared a companionable glance, our first and probably last one, and then lapsed into comfortable silence once more.

_**June 24**__**th**_

Sometimes someone other than Potter would sit with me in Hermione's room. My preferred company was Lovegood, who would never say a word. She read a magazine, or a book. Sometimes she played with Hermione's hair. She never expected anything from me.

Others would try to start a conversation. The only ones I'd speak with were Arthur or Potter. Arthur never spoke of anything remotely important and he was so easygoing. Potter… wasn't as insipid as I'd wanted to believe. Everyone else, I was a statue.

When Weasley came through the door I almost snarled. Whenever I saw him, all I could think about was the time he'd kissed Hermione. I didn't know the nature of their relationship. After my conversation with Potter, about how he'd seen into Hermione's mind and knew how she felt about me, I was confident. But I couldn't help feeling hostile at the redheaded idiot who'd dared to touch her.

He flopped down into the chair on the other side of the bed with a grunt and glowered a bit. His eyes were on Hermione, but I could tell he wasn't really seeing her. I could almost hear the gears working furiously in his mind. He was going to speak, to talk to me. It was the one and only time I considered leaving the room.

"Everyone thought she and I would…" his voice trailed off. I watched, one eyebrow raised, as he straightened his shoulders in determination. I had to mentally chant to myself, '_Don't kill him, don't kill him_,' just to keep calm. Whatever the little git had to say, I was going let him say it. Afterward, if he'd pissed me off as much as I anticipated he was going to, I'd put him in his place. Gladly.

"Everyone thought Hermione and I would end up together," he said quickly, not making eye contact with me. "Even I thought it. I'm sure she did too. But… it wasn't… it didn't… I kissed her one night and we both knew, right then, that it wasn't going to happen like that."

I stared at him. His ears began to turn red, but he plowed on. "I love her very much, but now it's like the love I have for Ginny. Hermione's like my sister. Only closer. I think of her like my sisterly best friend. If that makes any sense."

I stayed silent. That seemed to make Weasley even more uncomfortable. I was okay with that. Hermione lay between us like a wall.

"So… because she's my sister in every way but blood… I have to say this." He swallowed, took a deep breath like he was about to dive off of a cliff, and looked at me. I was startled by the purpose I saw in his eyes. "I know she wants you. And I'd have to be blind not to see that you want her. You have my total support, because I see what you're putting yourself through here at the hospital and also for what you've been doing for the war. You… did some pretty impressive stuff." He paused for a moment and when he spoke again, I was stunned anew at the sheer venom he could make seep through his voice. "But if you hurt her, if you even make her cry, I'll fucking demolish you."

I believed him. There was nothing more real than a Gryffindor with purpose. So I nodded to show I understood. He nodded back and then stood, looking down at Hermione for a moment before leaving.

I stayed where I was, pondering. I had the support of her friends. I had the love of the wizarding world for my actions during the war. I should have felt elated. But as long as Hermione lay there, unmoving and breathing through a bag, I could feel nothing but melancholy.

_**June 27**__**th**_

Hermione began to gasp. She writhed on the bed, choking. I stood so fast that the chair tipped over behind me. The Healers came pouring in before I had a chance to hit the emergency button. I watched, heart in my throat, as they assessed the situation. Her heart rate monitor was beeping frantically.

I wanted to shout at them, scream for them to _do something_! They argued, unsure of what was going on. But then the matronly Healer, my personal favorite, reached out and whipped the breathing bag from Hermione's face. Alarmed, I stepped forward.

Hermione gasped and stopped flailing. Her eyes were still closed, but she was breathing. She was _breathing_.

On her own. No help. She could breathe by herself.

Her cheeks were pink, her heart monitor slowed to the normal rate. She could have been sleeping.

The Healer, the one who had taken the bag away, came to my side.

"Not long, now," she said. She patted my arm and left with the rest.

I put the chair right-side up and resumed my seat. It took a long time for my own heart to get back to normal. But I could finally see all of her face. Seeing her breathe all on her own was the most glorious thing I'd seen in my entire life.

_**June 30**__**th**_

She was growing restless. It was like she wanted to wake, but couldn't. She twitched quite a bit. Every time she did, I'd grow tense, waiting for her eyes to open. They never did. The Healers didn't understand it. She was perfectly healthy now. The potions had done their job. But she couldn't seem to wake.

I sat in my chair, holding her hand. Lovegood was with me. She released the single braid of Hermione's hair and began to play with the strands. She'd brought flowers with her and now I saw it was so that she could place them in Hermione's curls. I watched Lovegood's hands twist and braid small sections of hair.

It was oddly soothing.

When she'd finished, Hermione's hair was a beautiful chaos of curls, twists, and braids. Daisies and roses had been artistically placed randomly around her face.

"It's lovely," I said.

Lovegood nodded absently. "I know," she said calmly. "Now she's ready."

"For what?" I asked.

But Lovegood only smiled. She leaned down and kissed Hermione's cheek, then shocked me as she came to my side of the bed and did the same to mine. I stared at her blankly as she left the room.

I was alone with Hermione, which was rare. Usually another visitor would sit with me. But I had her to myself. Should I speak to her? Would she hear me? What could it hurt?

"Lovegood says your ready now," I said, feeling a little foolish. But I spoke so rarely these days that it was rather nice. "She didn't tell me what you're ready for."

There was a spasm through Hermione's hand. I tightened my hold slightly, but was not alarmed. Her hands twitched all the time now.

"I'm rather anxious for you to wake," I continued. "I'm quite sure this seat has conformed to my arse. I want to take you away from here. I never want to see the inside of St. Mungo's again, though they've been very good to me. And you. But I won't lie, this has been the most interminable time of my life."

I brushed a stray curl from her brow and let my hand wander to her arm. The fang marks were still there. They'd leave a scar. There was nothing to be done for that.

"They said that you might not ever wake up," I continued. "No one seems to know why. I must say if that were the case… I'd be quite disappointed. You've never disappointed me before. Don't start now."

I couldn't speak anymore after that. I lost all incentive. I was trying with every fiber of my being to keep hope. But… why wouldn't she wake?

Suddenly so weary I just didn't want to remain upright, I leaned forward and rest my head on the bed at her side. I didn't loosen my grip on her hand. Sometime after that I fell asleep. My dreams were collages of memories and impressions. Visions of my time as a spy, of Dumbledore, of Lily, Potter, the final battle. Throughout all that was always Hermione. When she'd kissed me, when she'd faced the Minotaur, her look of despair as she'd donned the locket, facing down the entire order, dismissing me from her presence in the library, her response to my kiss, her courage on the battlefield.

And with green foam pouring from her mouth.

I was once again reliving those final horrible moments when I was shaken awake. I opened my eyes, a little disoriented. But the persistent shaking of my hand continued. I sat up, blinking quickly and rolling the soreness from my neck where I'd slept awkwardly. And then I realized that the hand that was being shaken so determinedly was the one I'd always had wrapped around Hermione's.

I stared at my hand. She was gripping it tightly and shaking it. Not a spasm, not a twitch. I looked at her face.

She was looking back at me.

I stood so fast that my head went light. I caught myself on the side of her bed with my free hand and leaned close to her, waiting for the bright spots in my vision to dissipate. My vision now clear, my stability solid, I stared into those open brown eyes right in front of my face.

"You're really awake?" I breathed. "This is no dream?"

She blinked and opened her mouth. Her voice sounded like she had laryngitis, but she spoke. "I wouldn't want to disappoint you."

I sighed, relief coursing through my body like I'd just had a deliciously hot drink on a cold day. I sat on the edge of her bed, pulled her hand close, and touched her cheek lightly with my fingertips.

"You heard me?" I asked.

"I've heard everything," she replied. Her lips pulled up into a smile. "Absolutely… everything."

I wanted to say it again, to give her those words, but it was harder when she was awake. It wasn't in my nature to say such things. Instead, I squeezed her hand. She reached up with the other one and touched my lips.

"I love you, too," she whispered.


	11. December 20th, 1998

December 20th, 1998

She is supposed to be at the Burrow. She is to spend the holiday with her friends at the Weasley home. I've been invited to attend the Christmas festivities. But that is days away. No doubt everyone knows where she is, but at the moment I couldn't care less.

I look down at her sleeping face, her cheek pressing inelegantly against my bare chest. It is the first time she's slept in my bed. It is the first time she's ever actually been in my bed. As much as I know I should wake her and send her to her friends, I don't. Her face is still flushed.

It surprised no one when she decided to go back to Hogwarts and finish her education. Her two best friends did not follow. That was also not a surprise. I had the option of returning to Hogwarts myself. I declined. I wanted time to myself with no responsibilities. After the war I was given an Order of Merlin and thousands of galleons as reward for my years as a spy. I should have been disgusted. Money could never replace all I'd lost. But it gave me my freedom to take a few years to do as I pleased.

I bought a house near, but not too near, Hogsmeade. I liked solitude. I had plans for the house involving a greenhouse for potions ingredients, a brewing station in the basement. I liked the brewing process. Just not teaching it.

She visited me on the weekends. At Hogwarts she had a room to herself complete with a fireplace that was attached to the floo network. She was a legal adult, after all. Sometimes she'd come as a surprise during the week. Once all her homework and revisions were done, of course. Over time some of her things had found homes on my shelves or the coffee table in front of the fire. She'd constantly be reading or studying, even if she'd finished all her work for school. She told me she was still deciding what she wanted to do with her life post Hogwarts. At first I found her constant need of learning somewhat disconcerting, but then she'd pull me into whatever she was working on. She wanted to know my opinions, my ideas. I was uncomfortable speaking about my thoughts, but soon she put me at ease. More out of sheer determination than anything else. We'd argue over silly things. She'd usually win, only because she'd kiss me to stop me from arguing further.

I spent my days in blissful quiet. Sometimes I'd read. Sometimes I'd brew small healing remedies for the school. Nothing too extravagant because my kitchen was on the small side. Mostly I waited for her to come to me.

We tried leaving the house a few times, to shop or eat in restaurants. Doing so in any sort of wizarding establishment was a nightmare. Public interest in us was too high. We soon realized that together we were homebodies anyway.

I never voiced my love of her. I would rather dance naked through the Great Hall than talk about my feelings. She knew this about me and didn't care. I showed my love in actions – kissing her hand or forehead whenever she'd say the words to me. It was enough for her.

Throughout all that, I never once made any sort of physical overture. I'd thought about what it would be like to take that next step, but I'd shut the thought aside as quickly as it popped up. When she'd left St. Mungo's, she'd been told not to do anything physically strenuous until she'd been given their express permission. I didn't want to hurt her. We would kiss frequently, usually on the couch. If it ever started to feel like it was getting out of hand, I'd put my foot down. I think she was almost as disappointed at I was.

She'd surprised me tonight. I wasn't expecting to see her for a few days since she'd come to see me last night, a goodbye before Christmas. But she'd stepped out of the floo while I'd been reading on the couch. Her eyes were bright with excitement. Dropping her cloak to the floor, an unusual thing for her because she was as tidy as I was, I stayed seated as she launched herself onto the couch beside me. She'd snuggled under my arm, snuck her hand up my chest, and placed her mouth directly at my ear.

"I went to St. Mungo's today," she whispered. "I've been given a clean bill of health and told that I can begin to exercise."

"What kind of exercise?" I asked politely, my heart beginning to pound.

"Anything I like," she replied wickedly.

"I… see…" I admit, the blood that had been in my brain began to drain south. "And… what did you have in mind?"

Hermione Granger had surprised me in many ways since we'd begun to see each other in a romantic capacity. She was bright, lively, and had a thirst for knowledge that explained her exasperating need of having her nose buried in a book at all times. She was sweet, funny, irritating, and hard-headed. She had to be right, and when she was wrong she tended to pout. Her skills in the kitchen left much to be desired. She was excellent with a needle.

But none of that came close to the shock I experienced when she whispered just what, exactly, she had in that mind of hers for us to do tonight.

Now, with her on my chest, her mouth slightly parted, I am content. She shifts closer, holding me tighter. I'm not going to wake her. I'm not sending her away to her friends tonight. I'm keeping her for myself.

Stroking a hand through her tangled hair, and feeling confident with her asleep, I whisper, "I love you."

She hitches one leg over one of mind and says, "Mmm, I love you too."

The little minx isn't asleep at all. Only mildly embarrassed, I wrap both arms around her and close my eyes.

I'm not a nice man. I've never been a nice man. I speak my mind about my opinions of other people and their actions, usually in a less-than-pleasant manner. I'm rude and have a rather mean disposition to nearly everyone.

I've never had any redeeming qualities to speak of until now. And she is in my arms. 


End file.
